Requiem
by TheFictionalMe
Summary: Scott doesn't make it out of the final battle with Gerard and the hunters, and Stiles falls apart. Lydia puts him back together. Post 6B AU, Sciles brotp, Stydia, background Scalia, lots of friendship and pack feels, ANGST. Now multi-chap with epilogue.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi loves! First of all, thank you to everyone who has been reading and reviewing my other TW fics, you're amaze!**

 **So, fair warning: this one is going to HURT. Not sure why I love writing such angsty fic or continually beating up my fave characters (sorry Scott!)...I'm actually a happy person in real life. Really! PM if you need warnings for potential triggers.**

 **This fic was basically born out of my growing fear that Jeff Davis is going to take a page from Game of Thrones and kill off the main characters in the finale...namely Scott.**

 **Really hope I'm wrong.**

 **This was mostly written off the first 6B trailer and the first few eps, will have both canon and AU elements because of that.**

 **Also, I tried a new writing style for this fic, every other line break will flash back and forth between present day and the events of the final battle two months before, hope it makes sense!**

 **Anyways, thanks for reading! Bring some tissues for this one.**

 **Fictional**

* * *

 _ **Present day**_

"Agent Stilinski, do you mind telling me what the HELL happened back there?"

Stiles sighed heavily, looking up from the floor to finally make eye contact with his superior officer. "I know, I know, I went off protocol. I'm sorry, sir."

"No, no, you didn't _just_ go off protocol," his superior, Agent Mahoney, stood up, coming around to lean on his desk and look down at Stiles with a frown, "you completely disobeyed direct orders from a supervising agent, left your fellow field intern agents behind, interrogated a subject when it was a goddamn recon mission, not to mention you aren't supposed to have _any_ direct contact with our marks as an intern, and to make matters worse, you assaulted said subject when he tried to flee!"

Stiles was silent for a long moment, lips pressed in a thin line, but he refused to break eye contact with Mahoney, giving him what he hoped was a determined look. "And I'm well aware of all of that, sir. But shouldn't it also be noted that I was able to extract the needed information from the subject and no one else got hurt?"

"Stilinski, that's besides the point," Mahoney huffed, shaking his head. "And the fact that you don't see a problem with your actions, and how it may have endangered your team or yourself, and that you are clearly showing no remorse for how you handled things...you leave me no choice."

"Wait! Sir, please," Stiles jumped up from his chair then, desperate to explain his actions away, but Mahoney's firm hand on his shoulder pushed him right back down in the chair. Stiles fell back with a loud huff, still rambling out an apology. "I know I made a mistake, okay _a lot_ of mistakes, but I can promise you right now that it won't happen again!"

"Easy, agent," Mahoney sighed heavily, and the intimidating look on the older man's face became a softer one. "I'm not kicking you out of the program. Yet."

Stiles breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that he had stepped way out of bounds on this mission, that he had completely broken all of the rules he had sworn to as a FBI intern in training, but yet he was still finding it hard to feel sorry for it.

 _The mission had been a success, so why should it matter how it was completed?_

"Seriously, thank you. I know I messed up, but I will stick to the mission protocol from now on. I swear."

"Stilinski, I want to believe that, I do," Mahoney sighed, rubbing a hand tiredly over his face. "Look, you're a good kid, and I think you have a hell of a lot of potential."

"Thank you..." Stiles began, but Mahoney held up a hand to cut him off.

"I'm not finished yet. That being said, there are still a lot of things you need to change if you're serious about staying on with the Bureau, if you want to continue and become a full fledged agent someday." He paused, looking at Stiles with that sympathetic look that he was beyond tired of seeing.

 _Couldn't everyone stop treating him like a fragile piece of glass already?_

"You know, Agent McCall and I go way back, which you're already well aware of. So when he called me up and said he knew a kid out of Beacon Hills, his old stomping grounds, that he thought would be a perfect fit for this program, for the FBI, I knew he meant it. Raf never did give compliments lightly."

He gave Stiles a sad smile now, hesitantly patting his shoulder again, this time in a semblance of comfort. "And I was really sorry to hear about his son."

Stiles' jaw automatically clenched at those words, his whole body instantly becoming tense. He just stared straight ahead, not daring to say anything, and gave his superior a stiff nod in reply.

"And I know you and Scott were close. I'm sorry you had to lose him like that."

Stiles' eyes darted upwards to meet Mahoney's for an instant, hard and hollow, betraying tears that he still refused to let fall at the mention of Scott's name. He forced himself to take a steadying breath, clearing his throat roughly. "Uh, thank you, sir."

"I sympathize with your loss, I really do," Mahoney said sincerely, before straightening back up and removing his hand from Stiles' shoulder. "But at the same time, you are currently a danger to yourself and your field team. You were reckless on this mission and we can't have agents going rogue every time they think they know better than their superiors. Especially when the letters on your uniform aren't even official yet."

Stiles' breath hitched, because he already had a feeling he knew what was coming.

"Which is why I am putting you on mandatory leave for two weeks."

"But sir!" Stiles protested, jumping up from his seat again. "That's not necessary! I know I went off protocol, but in the end no one got hurt, and I got the information we needed! I'd still call that a win, wouldn't you?"

"And the fact that you still can't see what's wrong with how you handled things on the mission is exactly why I am putting you on leave," Mahoney shook his head with a frown. "You need to get your head on straight, Stilinski. This isn't a suggestion, it's an order."

"I'm fine, seriously!" Stiles shot back, his heart racing now, the idea of not being busy, of not being completely immersed in missions, about being trapped alone in his room with his thoughts being completely unbearable. "It won't be an issue again! Please _please_ don't do this."

Because if he had all that time to think, to rehash his living nightmare for the past two months, to think about Scott...

Then Stiles knew he was going to completely break.

"Listen, Stiles," Mahoney rarely used his first name, and Stiles didn't even know he had known he went by Stiles, "this is non negotiable. You're lucky I have the authority to keep you in this program after pulling a stunt like that. But I know you need some time, son, so I'm going to give it to you."

He paused, frowning heavily. "But when you come back in two weeks, you need to be ready to put your all into this. If two weeks go by and you decide you're not up to it, to be a part of this organization, then I'll let you go, no questions asked. But either way, you need to deal with what happened, and take some time to process it. You won't be any good here until you do."

"No sir, I'll be ready," Stiles clenched his jaw again, his fists balled up at his sides as he fought to contain his composure. He was somewhere in between crying and punching something, and he wasn't sure at that point which one was worse.

"Good," Mahoney nodded stiffly at him. "Then get your things together and go. We'll see you in two weeks, not a moment before."

"Yes sir," Stiles said hoarsely, before grabbing his bag and badge from the floor and storming out of the office.

* * *

 _ **Two months ago**_

 _"Hey, this is Scott. Sorry I missed your call, leave me a message and I promise I'll get back to you as soon as I can."_

"Damn it Scott, answer you phone!" Stiles grumbled into the voicemail before angrily hitting his phone screen to end the call.

"Stiles, we're almost there," Derek told him with a hint of exasperation from then driver's seat of his camaro as he accelerated even faster down the highway. "Less than 20 miles out."

Stiles shot him an annoyed glance from the passenger's seat. They had been in the car way too long together already, but they were determined to get back to Beacon Hills and help Scott stop Gerard, now that they had finally heard what was happening there.

Stiles was just afraid they'd be too late.

"How about less talking and more driving," he shot back, hoping he hid the worry in his tone with irritation, while simultaneously knowing none of that mattered because Derek was a werewolf. He could _smell_ emotion.

It didn't matter really, because they were _both_ worried, even if neither of them were willing to voice it aloud.

But nothing else really mattered right now except getting back to Beacon Hills to protect the people they loved.

* * *

 _ **Present day**_

 _"Hey, this is Scott. Sorry I missed your call, leave me a message and I promise I'll get back to you as soon as I can."_

After leaving the FBI headquarters, Stiles stood in the middle of his tiny FBI issued dorm at George Washington, knuckles white from how hard he was clenching his cell phone. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he hit the end button, and then automatically redialed the same number, one that he knew better than his own.

 _"Hey, this is Scott. Sorry I missed your call, leave me a message and I promise I'll get back to you as soon as I can."_

Stiles swallowed thickly, pulling the phone away from his ear and hitting end again, before compulsively hitting call again, furiously blinking back tears as the familiar voice came over the line once again.

 _"Hey, this is Scott. Sorry I missed your call, leave me a message and I promise I'll get back to you as soon as I can."_

This time, instead of hanging up at the beep, he took a shaky breath before slowly speaking into the phone.

"Uh, hi, Scotty," he began hesitantly, internally hating himself for doing this but being unable to stop, "I know this is weird, and I know you aren't there, not really, but I just, I don't know, feel like I have to talk to you somehow. I, uh, _need_ to talk to you." He inhaled sharply as he furiously blinked back tears, determined to keep them at bay.

"God, Scott, wherever you are now...I hope you can hear this."

Stiles paused, swallowing thickly in an effort to compose himself, as one lone tear finally escaped and rolled down his cheek. He didn't even bother to brush it away as he rambled on.

"I just, man, I just miss you," Stiles breathed into the phone, clutching it to his face. "We all do, and I would literally give anything dude, just to talk to you, one more time. Just to know you're okay...just to tell you that I'm sorry, Scott. Damn it, I'm _so_ sorry. We failed you."

He paused, choking back more tears. " _I_ failed you. And everything here is falling apart, and I don't know how to do this without you man, okay? I just need you to come back, Scott. Please, if there is any way...if you can hear me, if you can just give me a sign, somehow, because I don't know what to do here. I don't know how to do all this without you..."

The voicemail suddenly beeped in his ear, effectively letting him know his message had been cut off. Stiles sighed heavily, pulling the phone away from his ear and hitting the end button again.

In the last two months, Stiles had only left two other voicemails, but he must have called Scott's phone over a hundred times, just so he could hear his voice. He was afraid that someday he'd forget what his voice sounded like, and he couldn't bear the thought of that.

He was selfishly thankful that Melissa had decided to keep Scott's phone activated for the time being, even if it was for the heart wrenching fact that it was probably too painful for her to deal with it yet.

Turning off his phone would just be another step towards admitting that this nightmare they were all living in was real, that they were all really living it, and that Scott was really gone.

* * *

 _ **Two months ago**_

"I can't believe you actually came back," Scott gave a laugh of disbelief, shaking his head at him, still unable to believe that both he and Derek had come back at the eleventh hour when he had needed them the most.

"Well, you had better believe it, because there's no way I wouldn't be here for this," Stiles gripped his shoulder firmly, giving him a wry look. "Although I should actually be asking _you_ why you thought you had to keep me out of this."

Scott shrugged, looking slightly chagrined. "I'm sorry, man. We just knew how excited you were, finally being in Quantico, and starting with the FBI. I didn't want to ruin that for you, and neither did Lydia, _none_ of us did, by dragging you back into all this, you know? You were finally happy, and safe. You were finally out of Beacon Hills."

"Dude, no," Stiles quirked a smile at him, pausing at the skeptical look Scott gave him in return. "Okay, well, yeah I was excited to be out of this hellhole of a town and away from all the nightmares that are _actually_ real life here. But I didn't want to be away from you, or Lydia, or my dad, or anyone else I care about here. You guys should have called me sooner. FBI or not, you guys are always what matter the most to me, got it?"

Scott nodded in agreement, giving him a tired smile. "Yeah, I know Stiles. I'm sorry, it's just after the whole Ghost Riders thing...I thought I was protecting you from all of this."

"Scotty," Stiles laughed, shaking his head at him, "when are you going to realize that although you might be the one busy saving everyone else all the time, I'm the one busy saving you?"

Scott grinned at him, one eyebrow cocked in amusement. "Yeah, yeah, I guess. Thanks for having my back though. Seriously."

Stiles gave him a knowing smirk. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again...you've still got me."

* * *

Stiles was still holding his phone in the middle of the room, debating on torturing himself by calling Scott's voicemail again, when his phone suddenly rang in his hand.

Lydia.

The woman of his dreams, that he had finally gotten to fall in love with him...only for them to both move 3,000 miles from home and 1,000 miles apart from each other to start their futures.

And now, after everything they had been through, everything they had lost...Stiles wondered why Lydia was even wasting her time on him at this point. He was a lost cause.

He braced himself, clearing his throat to sound more steady, before he finally answered the phone.

"Hey Lyds," he forced mock cheerfulness into his tone, although it wasn't because of her. No, she was the light of his life, the only reason really to keep moving forwards at the moment, to remind him of the good he still had to hold onto.

It was just hard to fake being happy when it still felt like his heart had been physically wrenched out of his chest and run over with a lawn mower, over and over again.

"Hey, I didn't think you'd be free right now," Lydia said in surprise when he answered. "Aren't you still wrapping up your mission? I was just going to leave you a message to call me later."

"Uh, yeah, about that," Stiles gave her a humorless laugh over the phone. "The mission wrapped up early."

"Stiles," Lydia warned in a no nonsense tone, and sometimes Stiles hated how perceptive she was, how she had always been able to cut through his bullshit, especially now that they were officially together.

"Lydia, everything's fine," he attempted to reassure her, but internally cringed the second those words were out of his mouth.

"Oh no," she breathed, and he could practically picture her pacing around her MIT dorm room furiously in her high heels as she talked to him, "don't you dare, Stiles. I've heard that phrase way too many times from you to know that it's not true. What happened?"

"Nothing happened," he quickly backtracked, but he knew it was no use. She knew him better than that. "There's nothing to worry about."

"Stiles," she replied, more softly this time, "you've been saying that to me for the last two months. Please, tell me what happened. Don't shut me out."

Stiles closed his eyes at her words, sucking in a painful breath. He knew, he _knew_ he had been keeping her at a distance, which wasn't hard necessarily with how far apart their colleges were, but he had been downplaying how bad things had been for him, had refused to talk about _that_ night or anything involving it since the funeral, and Lydia had been beyond patient with him, handling his wide range of nonsensical emotions without blinking an eye as she waited for him to figure everything out. If he ever did.

He didn't deserve her.

"Lydia, I'm sorry," he breathed hoarsely into the phone, forcing his voice to stay as steady as possible. "I'm not trying to push you away."

"Yeah, I know," she replied quietly, and he wished more than anything else she was there with him in that moment, that they could wrap their arms around each other and that then, everything might be okay.

"Stiles, I'm worried about you," she continued, and he could hear the concern in her voice clearly over the line. "So talk to me."

So he did. He filled her in on the mission and his solo agenda, and directly disobeying orders, and how he was in deep trouble with his superiors at the FBI, and he knew he wasn't going to get any second chances after this one.

"And I've been put on leave," he sighed heavily as he finally finished telling her the story, "for two weeks."

"Two weeks?" he could hear the incredulity in her tone.

"Yeah," he replied, feeling ashamed that he had to admit this to her now, that he had failed once again. "I messed up, Lydia. I really messed up."

"Stiles, no, that's not it," she was quick to reassure him. "You just need more time. It hasn't been that long. It's only been two months since Scott..."

"No. We're not talking about this," Stiles quickly cut her off, his voice instantly becoming hard.

"You never do," she replied, but there was no heat to her voice, only exasperation and worry. "But you haven't talked about it since we left Beacon Hills, you haven't talked about him since..."

"Lydia," he warned, his emotions raising precariously high to the surface, "stop."

"Stiles, I know you need time," Lydia continued over the line, "but you still need to deal with what happened, because you haven't yet, and you can't keep doing this. You _can't_ keep doing this to yourself."

"Lydia, I'm fine," Stiles replied through gritted teeth, his knuckles turning white from his death grip on the phone.

"That's just it," she sighed heavily into the receiver, "you're not. And that's okay if you're not okay yet. None of us are, really, but we need to take care of each other. Most of all you."

"Well it doesn't really matter, does it, because Scott's _dead_ if you hadn't forgotten, and there's nothing that anyone can do about that, so just back off!" he snarled over the phone before he could stop the words from spilling angrily out of his mouth. He immediately regretted them.

"God, Lydia...look, I'm sorry," he breathed heavily, running a hand haggardly over his face and trying not to drop the phone. "I'm _so_ sorry. I'm just, I'm such a mess right now. And you don't deserve this. You don't deserve me to treat you like this."

"Stiles," her voice was quiet, remorseful, "Grief is unpredictable, and this is hard for you, for all of us. I understand. Sometimes, you just need to lash out. But I'm not mad, I'm just worried."

Lydia paused for a moment, before adding, "And I'm not going anywhere."

Stiles was almost ready to cry again. "I really don't deserve you."

A soft laugh came over the line in reply, trying to break the heaviness between them. "Wouldn't want you to forget it."

Stiles huffed a short laugh in return. "I could never forget that, don't worry." He paused then, suddenly realizing that he had no idea why Lydia had called him in the middle of the day between her classes.

"Wait a second, what did you call me about?" he asked curiously then, taking a breath to compose himself. "This isn't our normal time for Facetime."

"Oh, yeah, almost forgot," Lydia replied, her tone suddenly changing. "I got an interesting phone call today."

"Oh yeah?" Stiles asked her, curiosity peaking, glad for a distraction from their previous topic. "From who?"

Lydia paused for a long moment before she replied.

"Malia."

* * *

"Wait, what?" Stiles stared hard at Scott for a long moment, leaning back against the jeep. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah," Scott looked slightly uncomfortable as he glanced over at him, rubbing the back of his neck. "Are you mad?"

"Am I mad?" Stiles echoed, just staring dumbfounded at his best friend. "Did you think I would be?"

Scott nodded. "Well yeah, Stiles. I mean Malia's your ex-girlfriend, and I know the whole thing is weird..."

"Scott, okay, hang on a minute," Stiles held up a hand to stop him. "Yes, it's weird. Definitely weird. But I wouldn't say that I'm mad."

"You're not?" Scott raised his eyebrows in surprise, the edges of a smile creeping up his face.

"No," Stiles gave him a small smile of reassurance, stepping closer to him. "Look, you're my best friend. And I'll always care about Malia, but we've been broken up for a while now, alright? Besides, I'm with Lydia now, and I think Malia and I have finally gotten to a good place with that too, ya know?"

"Yeah," Scott nodded in agreement. "I mean, this whole thing is _weird_ if you think about it," he gestured at them in reference to Lydia and Malia being friends as well.

"Yeah, but come on, we've dealt with much _much_ weirder," Stiles gave a short laugh. "And honestly, I'm more surprised than anything. But I'm not mad."

"It sort of snuck up on us," Scott grinned, shaking his head. "I mean, we've always been friends, back when you two were together even, but I don't know, something started to change during the whole Ghost Riders thing when we were trying to get you back..."

"Scott, look, it's okay," Stiles reached over and squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. "It makes sense, actually, looking at you two. I'm surprised I didn't see it before. And to tell you the truth, if you guys make each other happy, than I am happy for both of you. Seriously."

Scott couldn't hide the relieved look on his face at his words. "Thanks, man. That means a lot."

"Of course," Stiles smiled knowingly at him. "I mean, look at us. We're both with amazing women who we've somehow convinced to date us, we finally graduated that prison otherwise known as Beacon Hills High, and we're about to _finally_ start our lives. What more could we ask for?"

Scott snorted at him before his smile quickly fell. "Well, none of that is going to matter if we don't win this war with Gerard or stop the monster driving their fear."

"I know," Stiles was serious now, face hardening in response. "Which is exactly why I came back. We have to end this thing. And there's no way that you were going to do that without me, by the way."

Scott nodded firmly in agreement. "No way. We're doing this together."

* * *

Stiles awoke the next morning to a loud pounding on the door to his FBI issued dorm room. He squinted one eye open to look at the clock on his cell phone.

7:23 a.m.

"Go away," he yelled out, before flipping over and burying his face in his pillow further. If he didn't have to get up for his internship at the FBI, then he wasn't getting up for anything.

Not to mention the killer hangover he had from the night before, thanks to the half empty bottle of whiskey stashed under his bed. Stiles had learned many creative things thus far in the FBI program, and one of them was how to easily obtain booze as a minor.

And he had gotten really good at it as of late.

He knew he should be worried that too many nights lately had seen him drinking his feelings, but he was too emotionally exhausted to care.

Being numb might be better than feeling anything else.

The knocking continued incessantly on his door, making the pounding in his head increase exponentially.

"Oh, for the love of..." he started to yell back, until he heard her.

"Stiles, it's me," a familiar voice came through the door, and Stiles was sure then that he must be dreaming.

There was no way that she was actually here...

"Stiles!" The voice came again, and then he knew it was real.

 _Lydia_.

He scrambled out of bed, flinging his covers away as he became helplessly tangled in them, his already poor motor coordination worse than usual. Finally free, his bare feet quickly padded across the cold floor until he reached the door, frantically flinging it open.

Lydia was there. She was really there.

"Oh my God," Stiles breathed, his heart doing literal backflips at the sight of his beautiful girlfriend standing there in his doorway, looking impeccable as always with a large suitcase behind her. "You're here. You're _actually_ here!"

"Hi to you too," she smiled coyly at him, but he could see the lines of worry behind her smile.

"Come here," he muttered, reaching out and pulling her tightly up against him, burying his face in her hair and breathing in the familiar smell of her shampoo. She wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him tight. He leaned down, placing a long kiss on her lips and relishing the feel of her soft lips against his own.

After a moment, Stiles pulled back, cupping her chin gently as he looked at her. "I can't even tell you how amazing it is to have you here right now." He paused, studying her face carefully then. "But what _are_ you doing here right now?"

She shrugged innocently, looking up at him. "I missed you."

He narrowed his eyes at her. He knew there was more to it than that. "Lydia."

"Okay, fine," she sighed, giving him a knowing look, hand on her hip. "I came because you needed me."

Stiles felt a pang of guilt in his chest at that. Lydia had packed up and left school, missing her classes and time to work on her upcoming thesis, all because he was too weak to deal with his emotions and got kicked out of the FBI for two weeks.

"Lydia," he frowned at that. "And don't think it's because I don't want you here, because trust me when I say I do, I've like dreamed about you coming here to visit me...but what about MIT? All your classes? You can't put your life on hold just because mine is falling apart."

"Stiles, it's fine," she shook her head quickly. "I'm already way ahead on all of my coursework, and I won't have another meeting on my thesis topic until next month, and my professors have all been very accommodating about my family emergency, so it's fine. I can take a little time off."

"Family emergency?" he echoed, looking at her in confusion.

"Well, you...and Scott," she frowned when she saw the way he flinched at Scott's name, her tone instantly growing wistful, "are my family, and I already lost one of you. I won't lose you too."

Stiles eyes suddenly became wet, and he looked away, determined not to cry in front of her, determined not to fall apart every time someone brought up Scott. "You won't lose me, Lydia. I promise you that, I'm _never_ going to leave you."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it," she replied softly, gently tilting his head back up to look at her. "You're not taking care of yourself, and I can't let you keep doing this." She paused, stepping back to pull her suitcase into the room. "Which is why I'm here."

"Why's that?" Stiles sniffed, giving her a sad smile.

"We're getting away for a while," Lydia told him matter-of-factly, leaving no room to argue. "So go pack your bags."

* * *

"Scott can't take on Gerard, not with this creature on his side. He can't win this," Derek said as they pulled up outside the McCall house. Stiles frowned when he saw the bullet holes in the siding and the boarded up windows, realizing how close he had come to losing some of the most important people in his life and not even knowing what was going on.

He was determined not to make that mistake again.

"What other choice does he have?" Stiles glanced back over at him as he turned off the jeep, that he had happily been reunited with when he had returned to Beacon Hills. "Gerard and his army won't stop until all of you guys are obliterated, by the way, so if Scott isn't willing to fight them, then who will?"

Derek sighed heavily, crossing his arms over his chest in the passenger seat. "Scott has always been about saving people, about protecting everyone he loves and those who are innocent. But this is different. This is bigger than anything we've ever faced."

He paused, turning back to Stiles. "Scott is the right person to try to be the hero, but sometimes the hero doesn't get a happy ending." He gestured at the bullet holes obviously glaring at them in the side of the house. "Look at what almost happened already."

Stiles scoffed, shaking his head at him, but he couldn't help the feeling of dread that crept into his heart at Derek's words. He quickly shook it off before he replied.

"But Scott has us, and together, we're gonna kick that old bastard's ass, one way or another."

With that, he swung open the driver's door, jumping out before looking back with feigned annoyance at Derek still sitting in the jeep. "You coming?"

Derek barely suppressed the amused look on his face before he swung open the passenger door and jumped out on the other side.

"Let's go."

* * *

"Where are we going?" Stiles asked curiously from the passenger side of Lydia's car as she merged onto the highway.

"Somewhere we can get away," she replied, glancing at him with a quirk of her lips before focusing back on the road. "It's a long drive so you'll have plenty of time to worry about where we're going later."

"Lydia," Stiles sighed in exasperation, "you know that I can't stand not knowing. Are you really going to torture me all the way to _wherever_ it is that we're headed?"

"Precisely," she grinned, still looking at the road, but Stiles could tell how pleased she was with herself. He frowned, feeling determined, although he knew that when it came to Lydia Martin, she would always win when it came to him.

"Lydia, tell me."

"No."

He sighed. "Please tell me where we're going."

"Not yet."

"Okay, pretty please?"

"Still no."

"Lydia, come on! Tell me where we're going."

"Not going to happen."

Stiles huffed, running a hand through his hair in frustration and sending the short ends every which way. "God, if I didn't love you, I'd hate you right now."

Lydia spared him another glance before turning back to the road, a playful smile gracing her lips. "I know."

Stiles leaned back into his seat with a heavy sigh, but he couldn't help the small smile crossing his face. They may always argue like an old married couple, but Stiles wouldn't change a thing about it.

It was just one of the many things that he loved about her.

He sat up suddenly and turned back towards her, remembering something she had mentioned earlier. "Okay, if you won't tell me where we are going, then will you at least tell me why Malia called you?"

"Oh," Lydia's eyes grew wide, as if she couldn't believe she had almost forgotten, "I meant to tell you when I got to your dorm."

"It's okay, you were too busy ordering me what to pack," Stiles gave her a wry look as she chuckled at him.

"If I don't dress you, who will?"

Stiles frowned again, but ignored her comment. "So, what did Malia want? How is she? _Where_ is she?"

Last they had known, Malia had taken off after Scott's funeral, heartbroken and lost and needing to get away, to run away from all the pain...and they hadn't been able to get ahold of her since.

"She's...okay, I guess," Lydia began hesitantly, giving Stiles a worried glance before she looked back at the highway. "Or at least she's back from wherever it was she went."

"Wait, she didn't tell you where she's been all this time?" Stiles asked incredulously. "Don't you think she owes you that, after how worried we've all been about her?"

"Yeah, probably, but I didn't push it," Lydia shrugged, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. "I'm just glad she finally called. I didn't want to push her too hard."

She paused, letting out a heavy sigh, voicing what they were both thinking. "I can't lose any more friends."

Stiles swallowed thickly, pushing down a sudden wave of emotions and clearing his throat roughly before he continued. "So, what did she want?"

Lydia looked at him seriously before looking back out the windshield, lips pressed into a frown.

"She wants to see us."

* * *

"Huh," Stiles said aloud to himself, leaning back against the side of the doorway as he watched Malia carefully stitch up a gaping wound in Scott's side so that he would heal faster.

Their most recent run-in with Gerard's army hadn't been as successful as they had hoped, and Stiles was now working with Scott's dad to recruit more FBI agents in the supernatural know to help take them on.

They needed all the help they could get.

Scott winced as Malia finished pulling the thread through his tattered flesh, gritting his teeth from where he sat on one of the metal tables at the clinic in determination to stifle a groan. She said something quietly to him that Stiles couldn't hear, before gently wrapping her hands around his wrist and taking some of his pain.

Scott sighed in relief at her touch, leaning closer against her, and their faces were so close that their noses were almost touching. Malia pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Scott's mouth, causing him to light up in a soft smile despite the obvious pain he was in.

"Huh what?" Lydia said suddenly, coming up to Stiles' side and nudging him. He automatically lifted his arm and put it around her shoulders, pulling her tightly up against his side.

"I'm an idiot," he murmured softly, still watching the intimate interaction between Scott and Malia. They were so wrapped up in each other at the moment that they didn't even know Stiles and Lydia were watching them.

"You mean more than usual?" Lydia teased, smirking up at him.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her in mock irritation, but a warm smile played on his lips. "Yes, more than usual." He looked back up at Scott and Malia. "I don't know how I didn't see it before."

"Well, you were gone for most of it," she shrugged, as if that were the obvious answer. "And I don't think _they_ knew what was happening between them for a long time, even if it was becoming obvious to everyone else."

Stiles chuckled in agreement to that. "That's probably true. Sometimes Scott needs to be smacked with the obvious before he realizes that somebody likes him."

She laughed, her voice becoming fond with memories. "Also true. I'm pretty sure that's what Allison did. And Kira."

" _And_ now Malia," he snorted with a shake of his head.

"They're good for each other," Lydia mused, leaning heavily into him. "I'm glad they finally figured it out."

"Me too," Stiles agreed, looking back down at her, "and I'm _really_ happy that we finally figured it out."

She looked up at him, a small smile on her face. "That might have been my fault."

He leaned down to give her a long kiss. He pulled away, still smiling. "Doesn't matter, because you figured it out now, and let me tell you, you were worth the wait."

She pushed against his chest playfully, pulling slightly out of his embrace. "Wow, long distance has turned you into a sap."

"Only for you," Stiles grinned, pulling her back to him. He turned back to watch Scott and Malia holding each other now, lost in their own world, feeling something settle in his chest that two of the people who were most important to him had found each other. "They seem happy."

"They are," Lydia agreed, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "Hopefully as happy as we are."

Stiles looked back at her fondly, his eyes shining. "That'd be hard to do."

* * *

"Well, we're headed north," Stiles mused as Lydia merged onto yet another highway.

"Is that you putting your FBI skills to work?" she smirked as she turned off her blinker.

He bit out a laugh. "Yeah, that and my FBI training tells me that you need to stop for gas soon."

Lydia quickly glanced at her tank to see a quarter still left, knowing that meant about 100 more miles with her car. She gave him a cynical look. "And by gas, do you mean food?"

"Food? Yeah well now that you mentioned it, I am hungry," Stiles replied cheekily.

"Fine, fine, we'll stop," she replied with mock exasperation. "We still have a long ways to go anyways."

"Still not going to tell me where, are you?" he gave her a knowing look at she got off on the next exit.

"Just be patient," she chastised him gently with a smile.

"Lydia," Stiles looked at her incredulously, "I've been nothing _but_ patient with you. Come on, I've waited since the third grade for you to notice me! I think that deserves a medal for patience."

She laughed at that, shaking her head. "True."

"Yeah, and you're still not telling me, are you?" Stiles sighed with a shake of his head, but he couldn't help grinning at her as she pulled into the parking lot of a fast food restaurant.

"Nope," she replied matter-of-factly, but Stiles could hear the amusement in her voice.

As Lydia reached for her purse, he suddenly leaned across the center console and grabbed it out of her hands, digging through it swiftly and pulling out her phone.

"Ha!" he crowed triumphantly as Lydia tried to no avail to snatch her phone back. "I bet you have the directions in your navigation app."

"Stiles, give it back," she warned, looking at him with mild irritation.

"No way Lyds, this might be my only chance," he laughed in victory, swiping the screen to open the phone.

His laughter quickly stopped when the screen opened.

He wasn't prepared to see a photo of himself, Lydia, Scott, and Allison as the phone screen background. His smile suddenly faded and his face turned white as he looked at the photo, memories flashing unbidden across his mind as he looked at their four smiling faces.

It was an old one, probably from the beginning of junior year. Stiles couldn't place it exactly, but he knew it was after Scott and Allison had broken up and sometime before she had started getting closer with Isaac. Judging from how happy and carefree they looked, it must have been right before the Nemeton happened, permanently changing their lives forever.

"...what's this?" he finally looked up at her, all traces of humor and teasing now gone between them.

"It's my favorite picture of us," Lydia answered quietly, her eyes filling with tears that she was blinking furiously against. "It's my favorite one of all of us."

The unspoken _it's the last one of all of us_ rang in the air between them.

The fact that both of their best friends were now dead was almost too painful to bear. Stiles felt his chest growing tight, and he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before his emotions took over.

"It's a nice picture," he said hoarsely, before simply handing her back the phone, completely uninterested in looking at the navigation now, unable to keep looking at the smiling faces of two people they'd never see again.

They both sat for a long moment in the car in silence, the air hanging thick and heavy between them. The road trip thus far had been a distraction for both of them, but now one simple photo had been a reminder, a hard slap in the face of everything they'd lost.

"I'm not hungry," Stiles finally broke the silence, giving her an apologetic look.

"Me either," Lydia sighed heavily, starting the car once again.

* * *

"Scott, you sure about this?" Stiles frowned, adjusting his FBI vest so that it fit him more tightly.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Scott attempted a reassuring smile. "This plan is going to work."

"I hope you're right," Stiles muttered, giving him a skeptical look. "I just have a feeling, you know, about this whole situation, and it's definitely not a good one."

"Well, let's leave all the ominous feelings up to Lydia, okay?" Scott sighed, but Stiles could tell he was more worried than he was letting on.

"That's just it, she's being overloaded by them," Stiles furrowed his brows. "With this whole fear monster thing and all the impending death that's, let's be honest, is probably going to happen tonight, she can't sort out all of the voices."

"Stiles," Scott reached over and patted his shoulder, "everything is going to be okay, and we have to do this tonight. We can't run from this."

"Yeah, Scott, I know," Stiles nodded in agreement. "This whole nightmare has to end. Really, I'm just hoping all the impending death feelings means Gerard and all his goons."

"Maybe," Scott pressed his lips into a thin line at that, a serious look on his face. Stiles knew that as much as Scott had avoided having to kill anyone for so long, he also knew that tonight was the night that he was willing to do it if it saved everyone he cared about, but that he was grappling with that moral dilemma.

"Hey, man," Stiles pulled him out of his lost thoughts, "whatever happens tonight, just remember that you're the good guy, _we're_ the good guys. And just because you're fighting for what's right doesn't mean that some blood won't get spilled."

If there was anything Stiles had learned thus far from his FBI training, in conjunction with growing up with werewolves in Beacon Hills, it was that sometimes a little blood had to be spilled for the greater good.

And Scott knew that, but he also knew the grey area where the lines blurred between good and bad when people started dying. "I know, Stiles. And I didn't say I would get out of this whole thing without having to spill some blood...I just don't want the blood to be any of yours."

Stiles gave him a knowing look, because he knew that Scott always struggled with asking his pack to walk into battle time and time again, when he knew not all of them might walk back out.

They had already learned that the hard way with Allison, and it still hurt to think about her loss. Stiles knew Scott still struggled with it everyday, whether or not he let on. Stiles just knew his best friend well enough to know, without words having to be said.

"It won't be. We're ready for this," Stiles gave him a wry grin as he gestured proudly at his FBI vest. "Come on, this is the most prepared we've ever been to take on the next supernatural disaster in this town, probably ever, you know that. Besides, we have Derek, and Ethan, and hell even Jackson here now. We got the band back together, Scotty. We're going to win this."

Scott broke into a small smile at his reassuring words. "We're definitely not going down without a fight."

"Exactly, that's the spirit," Stiles patted his back, before glancing at his watch. "Okay, I have to go meet up with my dad and your dad and the rest of the unit and get into position, and you have to go get the pack into place." He paused, raising an eyebrow at Scott in question. "You ready?"

Scott nodded firmly. "Yeah, let's end this." He paused, looking at Stiles for a long moment, his eyes full of unspoken emotion, but Stiles could read what was there. He reached over and gripped Stiles' shoulder firmly in his hand, as if he was afraid to let him go. "Wait, Stiles, just...just be careful, alright?"

"Yeah, I will," Stiles quickly reassured him as he gripped his shoulder in return, giving him a serious look. "And you too. Just because you're a werewolf doesn't mean you're invincible. Don't go out there and have a hero complex and get yourself hurt, okay?"

Scott huffed at that, just shaking his head. "I'll try."

Stiles gave him a long look, before finally nodding in agreement and releasing his grip on his best friend. "Okay, man, then I'll see you out there." He paused, studying him carefully for a moment before he spoke again. "I'll see you after this is all over."

Scott gave him a grim smile in return. "Deal."

* * *

"Are you going to tell me _now_ where we're going?" Stiles asked with a frown as they crossed over a long suspension bridge, one that rivaled the Golden Gate but one that he was certain he'd never seen before.

"Lake Superior," Lydia finally answered nonchalantly, no longer having the energy to keep up the charade. Both of her hands were gripped tightly on the steering wheel as they crossed over the water. From here, where Lake Michigan and Lake Huron joined, it almost looked like they could be crossing the ocean.

"Huh," he mused as he took in the gorgeous sights, before turning to look back at her. "Why all the way up here?"

She shrugged, still staring straight ahead through the windshield as she continued driving over the bridge. "It was somewhere we could be alone, away from everything." She paused to glance over at him before back at the road again. "At least for a little while."

"Lydia," he quirked an eyebrow at her. "Why are we really going to the most northern point of Michigan in the literal middle of nowhere? Doesn't really seem like your style."

"Fine," she sighed, but her lips quirked at him. "One of my professors has a remote lake house up here, and he said we could use it for as long as we need. And it's fully furnished and modernized...but with no neighbors."

"So we can still be alone," Stiles mused with a nod of his head. "This place had better be nice then."

* * *

"Dad, trust me, I've got this," Stiles tried to reassure him as the remaining loyal deputies and the FBI unit got into position.

The Sheriff sighed, laying a hand on his shoulder, his eyes boring into his. "Stiles, that's not the problem. That's not my problem with any of this, or with your plan."

"Yeah, well, mind telling what the problem is before we walk head on into some nut jobs with guns being driven insane by a creature that literally feeds on their fear?" Stiles eyed him carefully.

His dad narrowed his eyes at him, but it wasn't so much in annoyance as it was in concern. "My problem is that no matter how much you guys have taken on, or what you can do, or who you've defeated before...you're all still just a bunch of kids fighting in a war, that you never should've had to be a part of in the first place, and I'm afraid that not all of you will make it out of this thing alive."

"We'll be fine, we can handle this," Stiles tried to reassure him briskly, because he didn't want to focus too long on his dad's words.

He didn't want to focus too long on how he might be right.

* * *

The cottage _was_ beautiful.

It was small, but it was impeccably decorated and well cared for. It sat right on top one of the high lake shore cliffs, with a breathtaking view of Lake Superior for miles around.

And they were completely alone.

"Yeah, okay, this is pretty nice," Stiles breathed, standing at the edge of one of the rock cliffs and taking in the views of the lake. It was so large, it was like being at the ocean, except the air was fresh and crisp and salt free. It was better than the ocean, if he was being honest.

"Told you," Lydia smirked, standing beside him. They stood side by side, enjoying the silence of the woods around the cottage and the sound of the waves of the big lake lapping up against the rocks far below them.

Stiles felt her fingers gently brush against his, lacing together and squeezing his hand tightly. He smiled, squeezing back, as he glanced over at her. His heart almost stopped at how beautiful she looked, the setting sun lighting her red hair in a halo of fire, the wind gently whipping at her face as she looked deep in thought out over the water.

And for the first time since Scott had died, Stiles wondered if everything might actually be okay again.

* * *

"Derek, come on!" Stiles was basically screaming at him now over the gunfire and the smoke and the battle all around them, even though he knew the werewolf could hear him.

"Stiles, go!" Derek growled back through gritted teeth, clutching his wounded side as he staggered to his knees. "You need to find Scott! Now!"

Stiles frowned, looking frantically around at the chaos in complete indecision. He knew Scott was in trouble, that he was still in the thick of everything with Gerard, and that he had been going against the older hunter alone when Derek had last seen him.

But Derek was badly hurt, and the FBI was having a hard time holding off the hunters with the ancient monster lurking around and amplifying their fear, and in short their entire plan had fallen apart pretty quickly.

But Stiles knew Scott would never want him to leave another pack member behind, no matter what was happening to him.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, before leaning down and hauling Derek upright, ignoring his groans of pain as he slung his arm over his shoulder.

"Stiles, what are you doing?" Derek panted at him as he leaned against him, struggling to stay upright.

"Saving your sorry ass, again," Stiles shot back in reply as he started dragging Derek away from the heat of the battle and towards safety.

He paused, locking eyes with Derek. "And then I'm coming back for Scott."

* * *

"What do you want for dinner?" Lydia asked on their fourth night there as they sat in the airy open kitchen of the cottage, looking out an incredible bay window towards the cliff and the lake as darkness fell. In the distance over the water, they could see some storm clouds rolling in, thunder echoing distantly in the background.

"Uh, that's okay, I'm not all that hungry," Stiles replied, feigning a smile as he took another long draw from the whiskey in his glass, earning a more than disapproving look from her.

And all he had really done was drink for four days, and avoid any serious conversations with Lydia. He knew it wasn't for lack of trying on her part, but she was being patient with him, biding her time and letting him come to her, waiting for him to be ready.

He had been successful thus far in distracting her from her mission to get him to open up, and to stop drinking so much, by catching up physically with her in ways that _neither_ of them were unhappy about, and constantly redirecting all their conversations to MIT or the FBI or their typical playful banter.

But Lydia was too smart for all of his games, and he should have known that. She had been _letting_ him avoid the topic of Scott and what had happened in Beacon Hills for the last four days.

He could tell tonight that she was reaching her limit, her worry and frustration continually building, despite her ever logical mind telling her this was how he was dealing with his grief and not to push him too hard.

But they had been apart since the funeral, and seeing him in person now for more than a few hours, she could see for herself how bad things really were for him.

Stiles couldn't blame her for being worried. He was falling apart.

Lydia frowned as he set down his glass with a loud clang on the kitchen bar, the last remaining liquid sloshing at the sides. Her voice was heavy and strained when she spoke. "Stiles."

"Lydia, don't worry, I don't drink this much every night," he lamely tried to reassure her, a forced smile on his lips.

It wasn't every night, really. Only when he was alone at night and couldn't drown out the memories of his best friend, his _brother_ , dying in his arms, and being powerless to do anything to save him.

Scott's face suddenly flashed across his mind, and Stiles tipped the glass back again, downing the rest of the contents in one big gulp, barely even feeling the burn down his throat.

He was certain in that moment he was an eerie shadow of his dad after his mother had died, and how that should probably worry him, but he couldn't find it in himself to care at the moment.

Lydia watched him silently, a hard look on her face, but it was betrayed by the worry and fear in her eyes.

For him.

"Okay, fine," Stiles sighed under her unrelenting gaze, guilt for making her worry about him like this creeping up under his grief. He stared at his empty glass, unable to look at her anymore, letting the effects of the whiskey settle into his bones and relishing in the numb feeling settling over him.

Numb was better than anything else he had been feeling lately.

"I just," he looked back up at her, eyes wet with tears he still refused to let fall, "I haven't been that hungry, since...ya know."

She nodded slowly as she studied him carefully. "I know. I can tell."

He laughed bitterly. "That's probably because I haven't been sleeping either. I know I look terrible."

Lydia didn't reply, just biting her lower lip as she looked back at him, and he saw the hurt flit across her face at the casual way he said it.

Stiles was suddenly unreasonably angry, and he didn't know if it was at the universe, or Gerard, or Scott for dying, or Lydia for caring.

Or none of the above really. He was mad at himself.

"I'm going to get some fresh air," he grumbled, standing up suddenly and swaying to the side against the kitchen counter, realizing he was much drunker than he thought he was. He grabbed the half empty bottle of whiskey off the counter as he staggered to regain his balance.

He was completely unprepared for Lydia's outburst.

"Damn it Stiles!" she suddenly yelled from where she was standing in the middle of the kitchen, her whole body vibrating with anger.

Stiles paused to look at her in shock, nearly stumbling again as he came to a sudden stop at her words.

"How can you be like this?" she marched around the kitchen island to stand in front of him, and he flinched at how visibly upset she was now, "How can you be so selfish?"

He blinked slowly, getting his bearings for a moment through the shock and the alcohol before he replied. "Are you _actually_ serious right now?"

"I am, Stiles, I'm _so_ serious, I could scream!" she shot back, causing Stiles to take a step back, because he knew the potential force that a _Lydia_ scream could have.

Then suddenly, before he could think of anything else to say, Lydia burst into tears.

"Oh God, Lydia, I'm sorry," he took a step towards her, all his earlier anger forgotten, but she just shook her head at him, holding up a hand for him to stay away.

"No. Just, Stiles, I can't," her voice was tremulous through the tears in a way that did not fit the brave and fierce Lydia Martin, "I can't keep doing this. I can't keep watching you destroy yourself, or drink yourself to death."

"Lydia, I'm not..." Stiles started to protest, but she cut him off before he could find the words for a lame excuse.

"Just save it, Stiles," her eyes were flashing with anger and concern behind her tears. "Don't keep lying to me, and saying that you're fine. I know what really happened on your mission, and I know about Monroe, and I know how careless you are being with your own life."

Stiles' jaw dropped open, because he had _no_ idea how Lydia had found out about that, or what he was planning to do.

He'd been tracking Monroe, abusing his access to confidential files at the FBI to find her whereabouts, and planning a solo mission to take her out on his own, because she still had to pay for what they'd done to Scott, to all of them...

It was a suicide mission, and he knew it, the whole pack would know that if they'd known his plans, which is why he hadn't told anyone, had been hiding his grief behind his single-minded focus to make Monroe pay for her role in Gerard's army and Scott's death.

But the Bureau wasn't moving fast enough, because they didn't know the real reasons for Monroe's involvement since most of the agents didn't know the truth about the supernatural yet, and the ones that did wouldn't let Stiles get involved, knowing his personal past with it and what had happened in Beacon Hills.

So he'd told no one, had hidden his secret agenda from everyone, until he had finally lost his cool on the last mission because he was absolutely _sure_ that the subject was connected to Monroe...but Lydia hadn't known that part.

But then again it was Lydia, and he should've known she'd find out.

"It has to stop," she continued then, once the look on his face confirmed what she already knew, "this obsession with Monroe, and the hunters, before you get yourself killed too..."

She trailed off, her voice cracking, and Stiles felt his heart break at how much pain he was causing her, when they'd already been through so much.

"Lydia, look, I'll stop, I'm just, I'm just so lost right now," Stiles replied hoarsely, tears forming in his own eyes, absolutely hating himself for hurting the woman he loved like this. "I just...I just don't know what else to do."

She just shook her head again, looking at him through tear filled eyes. "It's like you forgot."

He furrowed his brows at her in confusion. "Forgot what?"

Lydia's voice was quiet now, full of pain and remorse. "Scott was my friend too. I know it's different for you, how close you two were, and I get that, I really do...but I loved him too. We all did."

Stiles swallowed thickly, knowing she was right. "Lydia, I know..."

"Or what about Allison?" she cut him off, taking a shaky breath to calm herself. "You're not the only one who lost a best friend."

Stiles' felt his heart drop at the hurt in her voice, and the pain in her eyes, and at what a complete jerk he had been, completely lost in his own feelings.

Of course he hadn't forgotten about Allison, or that Lydia had already gone through almost the exact same thing that he was now.

"Lydia..." he tried again, but she silenced him once again with a look.

"After Allison died, I wanted to lose myself in my grief, but I kept fighting, I kept on going, because that's what she would have wanted. She wouldn't have wanted me to give up." Lydia paused, eyes shining with tears as she looked at him.

"I just wish you'd do the same," she finished quietly, her voice hoarse and full of defeat, before she delivered the final blow.

"Scott wouldn't have wanted you to give up either."

Without another word to him, she turned on her heel and walked slowly out of the kitchen, going to the bedroom and quietly clicking the door shut.

Stiles knew then that he had hurt her beyond repair, and that he had been so selfish, so caught up in his own grief, that he hadn't even thought to think about the fact that she lost Scott too, or that she had also lost Allison only a few years before.

He'd been so consumed with trying to forget his feelings, not taking care of himself, being reckless with his own life, making poor decisions out of grief and anger, when he knew that everyone they loved and who loved him wouldn't be able to survive another loss.

And Lydia was _right_ , she always was. This isn't what Scott would have wanted, in fact his final words to him had been not to give up...and that's exactly what he'd done.

He'd given up hope.

Feeling completely hopeless and more lost than ever, Stiles staggered to the door and walked outside, gasping for air and desperately hoping he wasn't about to have a panic attack.

He was truly hitting rock bottom.

He stepped outside as lighting crashed overhead, the thunder booming right behind it, as the imminent weather rolled in.

Stiles didn't stop, needing to desperately escape from everything crashing down around him. He walked forwards, disappearing into the storm.

* * *

 _ **To be continued...**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, I am** _ **SO**_ **glad** **I was wrong about the finale and none of our mains died!**

 **This fic is an exploration of if one of them had (and what I initially thought was going to happen actually) and the consequences of that.**

 **Honestly, this chapter is one of the most painful, angsty pieces I've ever written...and if you've read any of my other works (in any fandom), then you know that's saying something. That's one reason it took me sooo long to finish this part, writing something like this is incredibly emotionally taxing. Please be warned! Trigger warnings are at the bottom (to avoid spoilers) just in case you need them.**

 **That being said, I hope that this fic is able to make you feel something, maybe even cry (if it does then sorry!...but also good because that means I did my job).**

 **Again, this fic was based off the first 6B trailer and the first few eps, so both canon and AU parts abound. Also, my version of the Anuk-Ite has no name (because I didn't know it when I first wrote this), and I had the idea that Gerard could control it (like the kanima kind-of), and some of its powers are different, but I think everything else is self-explanatory.**

 **And of course, thanks SO much to Guest, KorrohShipper, Malisia321, TermGirl150, Guest, ninja0093, and ControlyourGroupies for all your wonderful reviews, especially for the characterization comments, that's truly the best feedback a fanfic author can get! Hope you are all still here.**

 **Okay, rambling done.**

 **Buckle in for more Scott and Stiles feels than you know what to do with.**

 **Fictional**

* * *

 _ **Two months ago**_

Once Stiles had finally dragged Derek to safety, the werewolf collapsed, falling unconscious from his significant injuries sustained in the fight. Stiles hesitated, not wanting to leave him vulnerable with the battle still raging nearby, but knowing he had no time to waste if he wanted to help Scott.

As he sat there, wrestling with indecision, a nearby medic in the supernatural know came over from where most of the police and FBI vehicles were stationed, noticing Derek's condition. The medic gave him a quick nod of reassurance that he could help, kneeling and examining Derek's motionless form, and Stiles knew that he would be in good hands.

"Thanks," he told the medic tersely, before turning on his heel and rushing to see if he could find any other members of the pack to help him go after Scott.

In the melee when the fight against the hunters had first begun, the pack as well as the FBI unit and the police had all been separated into different groups inside the compound, taking on different factions of each of Gerard's minions at a time.

Besides Derek, who was currently down for the count behind him, Stiles had _no_ idea where the rest of the pack was. They had all gotten separated pretty quickly, because even with as prepared as they were, Gerard was still one step ahead of them, setting clever diversions inside at every turn.

Stiles only knew now that Jackson and Ethan had gone with Parrish and Scott's dad to track down Monroe and some other hunters that had been fleeing the scene, while the sheriff and his unit tried to keep the outside of the compound contained.

He tried unsuccessfully to push down his worry for Lydia and Malia, and he assumed that Liam, Mason, Corey, and even Peter and Theo were all still running around somewhere inside the compound. If they were lucky, maybe one of them had even found Scott by now, since he'd gone alone after Gerard.

But Stiles just had a sinking feeling that they wouldn't be that lucky, and his urgency to find Scott increased tenfold.

After a few moments, Stiles finally found Lydia and Malia just beyond the rest of the FBI unit and a few deputies, also recovering from their battle wounds.

Malia was covered in blood, her clothes in tatters as she limped towards him, and Lydia was sporting a nice cut along her temple that was already starting to bruise, but otherwise they seemed relatively unharmed, for which Stiles was silently grateful for.

"Stiles! Where's Scott?" Malia ran up to him, her eyes wide, panic in her voice that sounded foreign on her.

Stiles realized in that moment how much Scott really meant to her, and he sincerely hoped that they still had the chance to futher explore their new found relationship when this was all over.

But they had to find Scott first.

"I don't know," he shook his head in frustration and worry. "Derek said the last time he saw him, he was going up against Gerard alone. I'm going back in for him!"

"Stiles, no," Lydia gripped his arm suddenly, her voice full of fear. "It's not just Gerard. That _thing_ is in there with them!"

Stiles felt his heart drop at that. He knew that the fear monster had been lurking around, it had been obvious with how some of the hunters and agents had been reacting during the battle, but if it was now alone with Gerard and Scott, then there was no telling what the outcome of that would be.

With that creature on his side, Gerard would have the upper hand.

"If that monster is in there with them, then I _have_ to go!" Stiles tried to reason with her, gripping her arms tightly. "Lydia, I can't leave Scott in there alone, he's outnumbered!"

"I'll go with you," Malia said firmly, determination set on her face as she stepped closer to him, trying to hide a wince of pain as she moved.

Stiles sighed, quickly shaking his head. "Malia, you're still healing. I can't take you in there with me."

"I'm fine, and I can help you find Scott!" she shot back, her eyes flashing blue in a mixture of both anger and worry.

"Look, Scott would want me to make sure you're safe," Stiles looked at her seriously. "And you're still too hurt to do any good in there right now, okay? Please, just let me handle it."

"Stiles, you can't," Lydia argued more, shaking her head vehemently. "You and Derek barely made it out of there this time!"

"Lydia," he softened his voice as he looked at her, "I know, but it's Scott. You know there's no way I'd leave him behind. _Ever_. I have to go back."

Lydia stared at him for a long moment, the fear on her face slowly being replaced with determination. "Well, then let's go get him."

"Lydia..." Stiles opened his mouth to protest, wanting to keep her as far away as hell from the battle and danger, but he knew there was no other choice. Lydia wouldn't be deterred. He sighed, giving her a short nod. "Okay."

"And there's no way you're going in there without me," Malia growled suddenly, her fangs out now. "I'm going in there to find Scott, with or without your help."

Stiles ran a hand roughly over his face. They were running out of time, and he didn't want to argue with either of them. His hand gripped the handle of the gun on his hip. "Okay, fine, but both of you stay behind me and listen to me in there, got it?"

Lydia sighed her agreement. Malia nodded, about to open her mouth in reply, when suddenly Lydia fell to her knees, holding her head in her hands and startling them both.

"Lydia!" Stiles called out in panic as both he and Malia hurriedly knelt down at her side.

"No, no, no, no," she chanted miserably, shaking her head as she clamped down her hands even harder against her ears, and Stiles' stomach filled with dread.

He knew what was about to happen.

She let out a blood curdling scream, that seemed to rock the very ground, sending Malia and Stiles back up and a few feet away at its strength.

After it passed, Lydia dropped her head in her hands, shoulders shaking violently. She wasn't talking, wasn't moving to get up, wasn't looking at either of them.

"Hey, hey, hey, Lydia, are you okay?" Stiles knelt back down, cupping her chin gently and tipping her head back up to look at him. His heart clenched painfully when he saw the tears running down her face now, and the devastated look she gave him.

"Lydia," he forced himself to ask, voice hoarse, because he was afraid he already knew the answer. "...who was it?"

Malia hovered over his shoulder, staring down at them, waiting with baited breath for the hammer to drop.

Lydia just looked miserably at both of them before she clenched her eyes tightly shut, shaking her head. Her voice was barely more than a pained whisper.

"...it's Scott."

* * *

 _ **Present day**_

The wind was picking up with significant ferocity coming off Lake Superior as Stiles left the cottage and walked over to the edge of the cliff, whiskey bottle still clutched in a death grip in his hand.

Lightning flashed again overhead, lighting up the woods and the water below in both an eerie and beautiful way, the rain starting in a gentle sprinkle and making the ground damp beneath his feet.

He came to a stop at the cliff's edge, looking down at the precarious height and suddenly finding himself hoping that he would just fall off, how simple it would be to just step off the edge and disappear into the darkness below, and he wouldn't have to feel anymore and that everything would just be over.

A moment later, suddenly realizing what he was doing, how irrational he was being, he took two panicked steps back, his heart pounding almost as loud as the thunder rumbling overhead.

He couldn't have these dark thoughts, he couldn't even contemplate just giving up like that, because that would be the easy way out, and hadn't he once saved Scott from this exact same fate?

 _You're my brother. Alright, so, if you're gonna do this, then...I think you're just gonna have to take me with you then._

Stiles legs completely gave out, and he collapsed helplessly to his knees on the wet ground, vivid memories of the night at the Glen Capri when he had talked Scott out of taking his own life washing over him.

How could he even _think_ about doing such a thing when he had stopped Scott from doing this before?

Not that it mattered. Not anymore, not really...because Scott still died anyways.

 _It's all my fault...I didn't save him this time._

Stiles was barely aware that his face was now wet, and he wasn't sure if it was tears or the rain.

* * *

 _ **Two months ago**_

Stiles felt like his world came to a stop a Lydia's words.

 _No_.

Refusing to believe it, even though he knew Lydia was _never_ wrong, he turned to lead them straight back into the fight and echoing gunfire behind them when he heard someone frantically shouting his name.

He wheeled around to see Liam, Mason, and Corey all descending on them, battle worn and weary and bloody, but otherwise still in one piece.

"Where's Scott?" Liam asked in concern as he scanned over the group and realized that he was still missing.

"He's still inside with Gerard and that creature! We have to _go_!" Stiles ordered him urgently, heart pounding with fear from Lydia's premonition, knowing that they were rapidly running out of time and Scott's life was in mortal danger. "Come on, he needs our help!"

Liam nodded quickly, body tensing and eyes flashing yellow at the idea of their alpha being in danger, but before they could go rushing back into the compound and the center of the melee, two figures slowly emerged from the smoke and shadows of the buildings nearby, heading in their direction.

It was Theo, still fighting on their side apparently, despite their reservations on his loyalty. Liam had convinced them all to give Theo one more chance to redeem himself, and although Stiles was still vehemently opposed it, Scott had finally relented and placed trust in his beta to watch him and be responsible for anything the chimera tried to pull.

Theo came towards them, dragging someone along side him, someone who didn't appear to be moving.

And that someone happened to be Scott.

As they drew closer, Malia realized it first, her eyes flashing blue. "Scott!"

Scott didn't respond, didn't react at all, and he appeared to be unconscious. He wasn't walking on his own, quite literally being dragged along by the chimera.

Stiles didn't have to be a werewolf to smell the coppery scent of blood as they came closer. Scott was completely covered in it, the entire front of his shirt drenched in it between all the obvious rips and tears in the material.

Stiles was afraid of what the damage to his body must look like underneath.

They all simulataneously rushed closer to Theo and Scott, and at the sight of seeing his best friend so badly hurt, in the hands of someone who had hurt him that badly before, Stiles completely lost his composure, his nerves already frayed. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was drawing the gun that Agent McCall had let him have, against his better judgment, for use against the hunters.

He aimed it directly at Theo's head without hesitation, his voice full of fury. "Let him go!"

"Stiles, what the hell?" Theo asked incredulously as the others all froze in shock to look at him, gun gripped tightly in his hands. "I just risked my life to pull him out of there. I saved him!"

Stiles scoffed coolly at that, taking a step forwards, gun still trained on Theo. "Yeah, right. For all we know, you _did_ this to him!" He smoothly clicked the safety off, finger hovering near the trigger, his aim never wavering.

"Look, I've made mistakes, I know that," Theo bit out in reply, looking at the others for help, "but if I wanted Scott dead this time, I would've just left him in there with Gerard and that monster, alright? I wouldn't have bothered to help."

"Stiles..." Lydia tried gently to calm him, but even she couldn't reach him through his current rage.

"Stiles, I think he's actually trying to help," Liam attempted to placate him then, but he just shook his head to silence him, jaw tightly clenched.

"I haven't forgotten what he did to Scott before. Or to us." He took another step closer with the gun still aimed, his heart lurching at just how badly Scott was hurt, hanging limply like a rag doll in Theo's grip.

Each word was heavily punctuated when he spoke. "I'm not going to tell you again. Let. Him. _Go_."

Theo sighed heavily, knowing it was a losing argument, and gently eased Scott's motionless form into the anxiously waiting arms of Malia and Liam.

As they pulled him away from Theo, Stiles walked right up to him, gun inches from his forehead. He looked him directly in the eyes as he spoke.

"If you really did drag Scott out of there to save him, then thank you. But that doesn't mean you have total redemption from everything you've done."

"Trust me, I know," Theo sighed, arching his eyebrows as he eyed the gun warily inches from his face, before looking back at Stiles.

"And if I find out you did anything to betray him this time...I'll end you myself," Stiles added, his voice growing cold and hard as he gestured with the gun.

Theo swallowed thickly, eyes wide. "Understood."

Stiles nodded grimly, before finally holstering his gun and rushing over to Scott's side.

Malia and Liam had propped him up against a large tree to support him so that he was sitting upright. Malia was on her knees at his side, gripping his hand tightly and looking at him with worry. Lydia was at his other side, but the grim look she gave Stiles when she turned back his way made his heart lurch painfully again.

Liam stood nearby, watching over them protectively and simultaneously keeping a lookout for any approaching threats from the battle nearby, although the gunfire and shouting and chaos was now significantly less than it had been before. The battle was winding down, the remaining hunters retreating now or being arrested by the FBI and Beacon Hills police, the wounded being loaded into nearby ambulances. It was over.

It was finally over.

Mason and Corey stood next to Liam, as they all gathered around their fallen alpha, hoping for a miracle.

As Stiles hurriedly drew closer in the darkness, he realized that Scott was starting to wake up, his eyelids fluttering as he slowly came back to consciousness.

Lydia moved over so that Stiles could take his place at Scott's other side, directly across from Malia.

"Hey man," Stiles said softly with concern, kneeling on the ground next to Scott and gripping his shoulder tightly, "you back with us?"

Scott groaned in response as his eyes opened fully, his gaze glassy and unfocused as they finally landed on Stiles' face.

"...Stiles?"

"The one and only," Stiles gave a hoarse chuckle, trying to hide his worry, forcing his voice to be steady. He frowned as he took in Scott's battered form more closely.

"I thought I told you not to get yourself beat to hell this time."

Scott gave him a grim smile, answering with a pained laugh. "Sorry." His expression grew more serious then, and even through his dazed state he looked at Stiles more closely.

"You 'kay?"

Stiles scoffed as if it were no big deal. "Me? Oh yeah, I'm fine, we're all fine. Except for you."

"Malia..." Scott said suddenly, his eyes widening in panic, until he realized she was at his other side.

"I'm here," she soothed him, squeezing his hand tightly, and he feebly tried to squeeze back as he turned his head to look at her. "I'm right here."

"Are you..." Scott started to ask, but he was cut off by a wet cough, rattling deep in his chest. Stiles' heart sped up when he saw the dark blood clearly flecking his lips, and the labored rise and fall of his bloodied chest as he struggled to catch each breath.

"Shhh, don't talk," Malia gently chastised him, running a hand through his hair and cupping his cheek. "I'm okay, everybody is okay. You need to save your strength."

"Stiles," Lydia nudged him urgently from his other side from where she now was crouched by Scott's feet, "he isn't healing."

Stiles frowned again, realizing now that Scott was losing even more blood since they had sat him up against the tree, pooling on the ground underneath him in a dark puddle at an alarming rate. "Uh Scott, man, what's going on? Not to sound like a nag here, but you really need to start healing. I don't know how much blood werewolves can actually lose, but this _can't_ be good."

Scott blinked at him slowly, as if it was taking him a minute to process Stiles' words. "It's fine..."

Even as he said it, Stiles could see how _not_ fine he really was. He was deathly pale, and his skin was cold and clammy, which was weird for Scott, because he was a freaking werewolf, and he _always_ ran hot. A sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead, and the glazed and distant look in his eyes and the blood coating his lips painted a grim picture.

And it was impossible to ignore the amount of blood seeping through his tattered shirt and trickling to the ground below him, as he wheezed for each breath, the labored movements of his breathing growing more effortful by the minute.

In short, Scott looked _terrible_. He looked like he was dying...

"Scott," Stiles suddenly pulled himself out of his spiraling thoughts. He could feel his heart speed up even more as he realized how bad things really were, and he desperately fought off the beginnings of a panic attack because that wouldn't do Scott _any_ good. "You have to start healing. Like right now!"

Scott's unfocused gaze finally met his own again, a defeated, weary look crossing his face. "...I can't."

"Yes you can," Malia interjected firmly, and her grip on his hand tightened as she fought off her own rising panic. "You have to try!"

"You just need to concentrate," Lydia chimed in, looking at him with worry, trying futilely to ignore her earlier scream.

"What do you mean you can't?" Stiles asked, looking at him incredulously. "Of course you can heal. And dude, you need to do it _now_. Come on, Scott."

Scott shook his head weakly, giving them all a pained, apologetic look. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be sorry, just try and focus, okay?" Stiles tried to reassure him, gripping his shoulder even more tightly. "Just focus on healing so we can get you out of here."

"Scott, if you don't heal," Lydia bit her lip as she looked at him, her earlier premonition weighing heavily on all of their minds, "you're going to die. You're losing too much blood, too fast."

"He can't heal because of what that monster did to him," Theo interrupted suddenly from the darkness, and Stiles had almost forgotten he was still there. He fought down the urge to pull his gun on him again, tearing his gaze away from Scott only for a moment to look over his shoulder at Theo.

"What are you talking about?" he asked disdainfully, eyes narrowed. As much as he didn't trust Theo, unfortunately he _had_ been the only one there when Scott had taken on Gerard and the monster.

Theo cautiously came closer to the group at the base of the tree, eyes tracking Stiles' gun. Liam came closer as well, hovering at his side in case he needed to intervene. "Scott can't heal because that's the only way that creature can be killed, if you're willing to die too. It's like it's curse, or power. That monster is dead, and he's the one that killed it."

"And why the _hell_ should we trust you?" Stiles scoffed in disbelief, fingers still itching for his gun.

"Stiles," Scott croaked suddenly, drawing his attention back to him, "he's t-telling...the truth."

Stiles blinked at him in disbelief before turning back to Theo, unable to hide the shock on his face.

Theo shrugged at that, sounding surprisingly sincere. "I have no reason to lie now. I overheard Gerard telling Monroe that right before they went after Scott." He actually had the decency to look sympathetic as he looked down at Scott, slowly bleeding out on the ground. "Like I said, killing that thing means signing your own death warrant."

"You mean you can't kill it without sacrificing your own life?" Lydia asked with a shake of her head, blinking back tears at the realization.

Theo nodded stiffly in response. "Right. If you kill the creature, then you die too. That's how it works."

"Like it's feeding on your final fear," Mason added quietly then in disbelief, suddenly realizing what Theo meant. "You have to fight through all the amplified fear, and then the biggest natural fear, the fear of dying, in order to kill it."

"So that's why it's so hard to stop," Lydia added sadly, letting out a shuddering breath. "Because no one would be brave enough to fight through that fear and sacrifice themselves to stop it, knowing that whoever was the one to kill it would be the one to die too."

"No one except for you," Stiles said hoarsely as he looked back at Scott, realizing what he had done, what he had knowingly given up to save them all. "You figured it out. Scott, you _knew_ what would happen if you killed that thing, didn't you?"

Scott gave him a pained look, nodding slowly in confirmation. "Had t-to stop it. It w's...the only way."

"You idiot," Malia murmured in a mixture of both pride and anger, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, "you brave, self-sacrificing, reckless, _idiot_."

He kissed her back, giving her a bloody, apologetic smile. "I know, Lia...'m sorry."

"And Gerard knew it too," Stiles suddenly realized, his jaw clenching tightly in anger. "He knew that monster would not only fuel the fear he needed for an army, he _knew_ that you would be the one to try and stop it, and what would happen to you when you did."

He paused, swallowing thickly in an effort to contain his sudden overwhelming rage. "I'm going to _kill_ that bastard!"

"Stiles," Scott wheezed, trying to calm him, "no. Don't be...like him. Keep fighting...b't don't lose...yourself."

"Scott," Stiles' tone softened then, as he looked back at him, eyes wet now, "how can you even say that, if that means losing _you_?"

"I-I know...I'm s'rry," Scott replied breathlessly, giving him a sad smile. "But I...had to."

"I know. I know you did," Stiles shook his head in disbelief, blinking back tears. He squeezed the back of Scott's neck. "You and your damn hero complex."

Of course Scott would do something like this, knowingly walk headfirst into the fire without any thought of the consequences to himself, so long as everyone he loved was safe, as long as no more innocent people got hurt.

Sometimes Stiles really _hated_ what their lives had become since that fateful night in the woods.

"But wait, there has to be something we can do," Malia asked then, the desperation evident in her tone. "There has to be _something_ , right?"

"Yeah, I mean, come on, you're a True Alpha," Stiles agreed, voice filling again with determination, still refusing to accept Scott's fate, that they were just going to lose him now after everything they'd been through. "Which means you defy all the odds, and you've had some pretty bad ones, let's be honest, but somehow you still beat them every time. You're not going down like this!"

"Stiles..." Scott tried weakly to reason with him, but it was no use.

"Wait, wait, wait, do you need like a trigger or something?" Stiles cut him off suddenly, wracking his brain desperately for a solution before he lost his best friend. "Wouldn't that still work? Like do I need to punch you or have Liam break your arm to start the healing process?"

"No," Scott replied breathlessly, "th't won't work...not this time."

Stiles refused to take that answer, still refused the idea that there was nothing they could do. "What, because you're in too much pain already?"

And then the wheels started turning and he looked frantically towards first Malia and then Liam. "Well come on, what are you guys doing? You need to take his pain!"

Malia growled at him, but her face remained a mixture of both fear and anger. "What do you think I've been trying to do this whole time?"

"Stiles..." Scott tried to interject weakly again, but Stiles had already turned away, setting his sights on Liam.

"I, I _tried_ ," Liam said brokenly, stepping closer to them. "When we first got to him, I tried to take his pain..." he trailed off, his face crumpling in defeat, shoulders slumping. "I couldn't do it."

"Well, you guys must be doing it wrong," Stiles bit out, narrowing his eyes as he looked at both Liam and Malia, "so try it again!" He was growing angry now, but he knew it was really just fear, just a way to mask his growing panic, because he couldn't take the awful truth that was now staring him right in the face.

"Stiles," Scott's hoarse voice brought his attention back, "...it's not their fault..."

"I don't get it, that should work, and then you can heal!" Stiles shook his head vehemently as he finally looked back at Scott, his expression openly panicked now. He didn't care what Theo said, or what Scott had confirmed about that creature, what defeating it would cost them...

But the look on Scott's face made his heart sink, his remaining hope fade.

Scott quietly replied between each pained inhale, holding Stiles' gaze steadily with an apologetic look.

"Stiles...they can't t-take my pain...b'cause I don't have any."

At those words, Stiles' world came painfully to a stop.

He barely registered Lydia's sharp gasp behind him, or the way Malia completely froze in horror, a lone tear running down her cheek. He was barely aware that Liam, Mason, and Corey were all reacting behind him, and maybe even Theo, but he didn't have the energy to pay them any attention.

Because they all _knew_ what that meant, had already been through this once before. There was no denying the reality of the situation any longer.

No one spoke for a long moment, the heavy, painful weight of Scott's words crushing them, until Stiles finally found his voice again.

"No," he breathed, his voice pure devastation, "Scotty... _no_."

Scott nodded slowly, giving him a sad, pained smile. "It's okay..."

"No, no, no, this is _not_ okay!" Stiles shot back, his eyes suddenly filling unbidden with more tears. He haphazardly brushed them away with the back of his sleeve, sniffing loudly before he gripped Scott's shoulder again, squeezing him harder than he meant to. "Don't even _say_ that."

It was _true_. Scott was dying, because he had defeated the creature Gerard had unleashed on them.

Stiles felt like he was dying too.

"You can't," Malia's voice broke then, and Scott's glassy eyes found hers once again. "You can't...we can't lose you... _I_ can't _.._.Scott, _please_..."

She couldn't even stop them now, tears suddenly rolling down her cheeks, and Scott unsteadily reached his other hand up to cup her face, gently brushing his thumb across her cheek and trying to wipe away the tears.

"Malia," he whispered hoarsely, and it was taking all of his energy to talk now, "I'm s'rry...but you know...you know th't...that I lo..."

He was cut off by a deep, wet cough, wheezing heavily, unable to continue.

Malia nodded at him, biting her trembling lower lip in a failed effort to hold back her tears, cupping his face gently. "I know, Scott, me too...I love you too."

Despite the fact that he was fading fast, Scott managed a soft smile at her words. He closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing thickly around the blood pooling in his mouth, a wistful expression on his face. "I...s-shoulda...said it...sooner..."

Malia bit back a sob at that, pressing a kiss to his cheek before collapsing against him. She buried her face against his shoulder, unable to handle the pain of losing yet another person she loved, of losing the boy that she loved, when they had finally just figured out what they meant to each other.

Scott exhaled heavily, leaning his head against hers as he closed his eyes again, his voice full of remorse. "Malia...I'm s'rry..."

Stiles swallowed thickly around the growing lump in his throat, desperately fighting to maintain his own composure, tears still threatening to fall.

His best friend, his brother, was dying, _really_ dying, and he didn't know what to do.

"Wait a second," Mason suddenly spoke up, unable to hide the building hope in his voice despite the seriousness of the situation, "what about the Nine Sacred Herbs?"

Stiles wheeled around to face him at his words, as Malia sat up from Scott's shoulder, roughly swiping at the tears on her face with the back of her hand.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him in confusion. "What about them?"

"Maybe those could work," Mason explained with a hopeful shrug, coming closer to them. "I mean, they helped heal Corey, and Argent too actually, from their injuries from the Ghost Riders. So maybe they'd be powerful enough to heal Scott too, from whatever the creature did to him."

"Yeah, and my healing abilities aren't nearly as good as Scott's, and they helped me," Corey added, squeezing Mason's hand in support. "It could work."

"That's not a bad idea, actually," Lydia agreed softly, turning to Stiles with a hopeful expression, as she desperately tried to ignore her earlier premonition. "It's worth a shot."

"Okay, okay, then where do we get these sacred herbs or whatever?" Stiles waved his hand around manically. "Because we're sort of wasting time here!"

"Yeah, of course," Mason nodded hurriedly. "They're at the hospital. Melissa keeps some in stock now, in case someone gets hurt."

Mason paused, biting his lip as he looked back down at Scott. "We definitely need them now."

To their surprise, Scott shook his head weakly in protest. "No...guys...i-it won't work...not for this."

"You don't know that," Stiles disagreed firmly. "And we have to try _something_ , Scott. This might actually save your life!"

"And I know your mom is still in the hospital recovering, but she's out of ICU now, so maybe she can help me with the herbs..." Mason began, before Scott suddenly cut him off.

"No!" Scott raised his voice suddenly, becoming notably agitated and upset for the first time. His effort to yell caused a long coughing fit, as he wheezed desperately to get out the words. "No, d-dont tell her...she can't...she c'n't know..."

"Scott, hey, hey, hey, _breathe_ ," Stiles reassured him, gripping his shoulder again and trying to slow his breathing, vaguely reminiscent of when he used to have asthma attacks and he would have to try and keep him calm. "It's okay man, just breathe, breathe for me, okay?"

Scott nodded, still struggling to stop coughing, dragging in another deep breath with effort. "Okay...I'm o-okay..."

"Not really," Stiles admonished gently, blinking back tears once again. "Just take it easy."

"Scott, your mom can help," Malia sniffed, shaking her head at him in confusion. "Why can't Mason tell her?"

"Because," Scott coughed, clearing his throat as he finally caught his breath, "she...she c-can't see me like this...when she c'n't...can't save me...this time."

Malia nodded slowly in understanding, another tear rolling down her cheek. Stiles sighed heavily, because even as he was dying, Scott was more worried about everyone else, didn't want to put his mother through the pain of being unable to save his life this time, like she had done before.

But Stiles didn't know how Melissa would even survive it if Scott didn't make it through this.

"Stiles," Scott rasped again, pulling his attention back to him. His glassy eyes were imploring. "I n-need you to...do som'thing...for me."

Stiles smiled sadly at him, exhaling shakily as he tried to keep his composure. "Yeah, Scott, what is it?"

"My m-mom," Scott continued, blinking heavily as he dragged in another ragged breath, "you have t-to...look out for h'r...after...after I'm..."

He trailed off, his words becoming more slurred, more labored with each passing moment.

Stiles swallowed thickly, wishing that this wasn't a conversation he had to have with his best friend in the entire world as he died from some incurable supernatural injuries in the middle of the woods. Scott was the leader, the good guy, the _alpha_ , and he wasn't supposed to die like this.

But more than that, to Stiles, Scott was his best friend, still just a teenage boy with his whole life ahead of him, who had been pulled into a world neither of them had ever wanted and that neither of them had ever been able to walk away from. Underneath the alpha werewolf and the leader of a supernatural war, Scott was still just a kid who wanted to go to college, and have a girlfriend and semi-normal life, who had never wanted to fight in a war.

And now he wasn't going to have a chance for any of that, because the one thing Scott would never walk away from was protecting his friends, and this time, he was paying the ultimate price for it.

Stiles' voice was strained and shaky when he finally replied. "Of course, Scott, you know... _you know_ that I would. But would you stop talking like you're dead already! We're not giving up yet..."

To his horror, his voice cracked, and he had to look away, hiding his face in his hands. He was vaguely aware of Lydia rubbing his back gently in a semblance of comfort, but he didn't look back up until Scott's weak voice got his attention.

"Stiles...hey...look a' me."

Sniffling, Stiles looked back up, his watery eyes meeting Scott's own. "Sorry," his voice shook. "I just...you're trying to give me the whole 'after I die' speech, and I just can't..."

He trailed off with a shake of his head, unable to finish.

Scott gave him a sympathetic nod. "It's ok'y...I get it."

Stiles scoffed to himself. Here Scott was the one bleeding to death on the forest floor, and he was the one comforting _him_. Stiles wasn't sure he could feel much lower at that moment.

But he also felt lingering determination that there might still be a way to beat this thing, to save Scott's life, supernatural rulebook be damned, and he squared his shoulders in determination.

"Okay, Scott, if you don't want your mom to know, we won't tell her," Stiles sighed heavily, "but I'll go with Mason and see if I can help with the herbs. You just need to hang on, got it?"

"No," Scott said once again, grabbing Stiles' arm with surprising strength, his tone strong even though he could barely breathe. "Stiles...don't l-leave."

"Scott, we can't just sit here and let you _die_ ," Stiles bit out with more force than he intended, unable to keep the emotion out of his voice, "we have to do something, and this might be our only chance!"

"Stiles," Scott rasped again, and his glassy eyes were blazing into his now, "stay... _please_."

Something in the way he said it, the look on his face, the hints of desperation, stopped Stiles in his tracks.

It hit him then, that the reason Scott had seemed so calm so far, excluding his fear over Melissa finding out, that the reason he didn't seem afraid, wasn't the one panicking, even though he was the one dying...was because they were all there with him.

Because _he_ was there with him.

Stiles could barely hold back tears now, giving Scott a sad smile, his voice breaking. "Okay, Scott, okay...I won't leave. Promise."

"...good," Scott breathed heavily in relief, something seeming to settle over him, leaning his head back against the tree as if he couldn't support its weight anymore.

"Why don't we take him to the hospital?" Liam asked suddenly, his voice quavering as he looked down at Scott. "If that's where the herbs to heal him are, we could get them to him faster!"

"We can't move him like this," Lydia answered gently but firmly. "He'd bleed out before we even made it out of the preserve."

Liam frowned, squaring his shoulders in false determination. "But that doesn't mean Mason shouldn't still get the herbs. It could still work!"

"No," Scott shook his head weakly, "it...i-it won't work. N'thing will."

"Well, I can still get the herbs," Mason frowned at him in disagreement, "I think I know enough that I could mix up something, but I'm no expert. What about Deaton? I mean, couldn't he do something to help Scott?"

"He's still out of town," Lydia replied heavily with a shake of her head, "looking for a way to put that creature back where it came from."

She paused, giving Scott a sad look before she continued. "And he's not answering his phone. I've tried him already."

"...doesn't matter," Scott tried to interject, coughing again as more blood flecked his lips, looking completely exhausted. "T-there's no cure...f'r this."

"Scott, _come on_ ," Stiles added then, his frustration at being unable to do anything building. Scott's glassy eyes found his face again. "Damn that creature and whatever killing it means, it doesn't matter! You can't just give up! Why aren't you fighting?"

Scott gave him a sad smile, coughing deeply again before he spoke. "Stiles...my fight...'s over now. You have...h've to keep fighting." His eyes unsteadily roamed over all of his pack members surrounding him as he spoke. "All...of you. Don't...d'n't give up."

"Scott, I can't do this without you," Liam's voice suddenly cracked, tears streaming down his face, "I don't want to be the alpha, I can't be..."

"Liam," Scott's voice was soft and commanding, his glassy eyes boring into his beta's, "yes you can...you c'n do this. And y-you're not alone. You h've a pack."

Liam closed his eyes, shaking his head as his voice broke. "But we need you, Scott. You've been there for me, from the very beginning, and I can't lose you now, I don't want to...please, _please_ don't do this."

"I'm s'rry," Scott rasped, imploring Liam, "but you're the alpha n-now. You h've to be."

Liam's whole body was vibrating now with grief and sorrow, sounding even younger than he was. "I can't be _you_. Please don't make me."

"You'll have the p-pack, and Derek," Scott coughed weakly, before continuing, "and Stiles. They will a-all help you, j'st like t-they helped me."

"Scott, no," Stiles choked out, listening to the two of them and hearing his name, hearing how much faith Scott still had in him. More tears escaped and rolled down his cheeks. "We can't lose you. We can't do this without you!"

He paused, shaking his head miserably as he uselessly tried to stop the flow of tears. "Please, you _have_ to heal. You just have to hang on until we get the herbs. You have to fight this!"

Scott shook his head weakly, eyes watering and voice full of remorse as he replied. "I'm sorry..."

"Stiles," Lydia's hoarse voice cut in, and he had never seen her more devastated than when she looked at him now. She gripped Scott's leg, needing some contact with him, and looked back and forth between the two of them with a broken expression. "There isn't, there isn't enough time..."

And there was no doubt, if Lydia sensed there wasn't enough time, then Scott's time was up.

As much as it shattered him apart, Stiles knew she was right. Even if the herbs should somehow magically heal Scott, they wouldn't be able to get them to him in time.

At that knowledge, Stiles felt the world spinning dangerously, the reality of losing Scott slowly sinking in.

"No..." he croaked, squeezing his eyes shut as more tears came.

"Stiles," Scott gripped his arm again, his strength notably waning now. Stiles opened up his eyes, blinking rapidly through his tears now, to look back at him.

Scott's glazed eyes were full of emotion, and Stiles gripped his hand back like a lifeline, as if that could somehow keep him there with them. Scott stared at him for a long moment before he continued, trying to catch his precious breath as the effort to talk continued to increase as his body failed him.

"D-do you rem'mber, what it was like b-before? J'st the two...of us?"

Stiles nodded slowly through his tears, furrowing his brows and wondering where he was going with this, squeezing his hand again. "Well yeah, yeah man. _Of course_ I do."

"All we h'd...was each 'ther," Scott continued breathlessly, and even though he was fading fast, his expression turned wistful. He gestured weakly with his head at the members of the pack surrounding them now. "Guess t-things...changed a li'tle, huh?"

Stiles managed to choke out a laugh through his tears, shaking his head. "Yeah Scott, they definitely did. And that's all because of _you_."

Scott gave him a pained smile in return. "And you. We w're the...original p-pack."

Hearing Scott call him _pack_ almost destroyed Stiles right there, and he made a strangled noise somewhere in his throat.

"No m-matter what happen'd...no matter wh't we faced," Scott continued, forcing his lungs to keep working, his eyes to stay open, so he could get out these last words, "y-you were alw'ys there."

Stiles nodded, not trusting his voice when he spoke again. "Well, yeah, and I told you before...you've got me. _Always_."

"I k-know," Scott breathed heavily in return, squeezing his hand again. "...and even i-if I'm gone...you've still g-got me, 'kay?"

Stiles shook his head, putting a hand to his mouth to suppress a sob. "Scott..."

He couldn't get out any more words.

Scott continued breathlessly, forcing out the words. "A-and I j'ust wanted...w-wanted to say..."

He was cut off by a hard, wheezing cough, spitting out more blood as he struggled to catch his breath with more effort than before.

"Easy, Scott, easy," Stiles soothed as he squeezed his hand, Malia doing the same across from him, tears still streaming down her face, both of them desperate to anchor him there with them. Malia, Lydia, and the rest of the pack stood by in stoic silence now, listening to the heartfelt exchange between two best friends saying goodbye.

After a moment, Scott finally caught his breath, and turned watery eyes back to Stiles. "T-thank you. F'r being...there. For being...m' brother."

Stiles lost his remaining composure at his words, replying with a shuddering breath. "And you're _my_ brother, and I need you, you know that. I can't, I can't lose you, Scott... _please_."

His words were barely more than a whisper, a prayer, because he wasn't sure how he was supposed to face a life without Scott in it, the one constant he had always had.

"You'll b-be...ok'y," Scott somehow managed to sound reassuring, even through the blood and fear and impending death. "It's n't j-just...the two of us...an'more."

Stiles choked out a sob at that, shaking his head as more tears came. "No, it's definitely not...but Scott, we all need you, man. _I_ need you...how are we supposed to do this without you?"

"Together," Scott replied hoarsely, squeezing Stiles' hand again, his gaze unsteadily roaming over the members of his pack surrounding him, his weak tone somehow still commanding as he gave them his last order as their alpha. "St'y together...protect each 'ther...d-don't give up...p-promise me."

"We promise, Scott," Liam choked out through his tears from where he stood, Mason and Corey nodding their heads sadly in agreement. "We will."

"Together," Lydia added softly, eyes shining with tears as she gripped Scott's knee in reassurance. "We'll never stop fighting, or stop protecting those who need us. I promise."

Malia couldn't answer through her tears, falling apart as she pressed a gentle kiss against his lips, hoping that it conveyed everything she couldn't say.

Scott relaxed a little at the pack's confirmation, closing his eyes and leaning his head back in pure exhaustion against the tree. A moment later, he opened them again with every ounce of strength he had left, looking slowly at every member of the pack. "I'm proud...o-of all...of you." He coughed again weakly before he continued, his eyes finally landing back on Stiles.

"A-and I'm proud...of us."

Stiles choked back a sob at that, more tears streaming down his face now as he tightened his grip on his hand, afraid to let go. "Me too, Scott...me too."

Scott gave him a long look, full of all the things he still wanted to say, but couldn't. It didn't matter, because Stiles knew without him having to say it. He always knew.

Scott's eyes slipped closed then, his head lolling to the side towards Stiles, and Stiles felt his heart nearly stop. He knew it was coming, but he wasn't ready, would never be ready to lose Scott, was still holding onto some childish hope that maybe somehow he'd be okay, that they could still save him somehow, that there would still be some eleventh hour miracle, that they could still somehow defy all the odds.

But not this time.

"Scott!" Malia called his name in panic as he slumped over, reaching desperately for him.

"Scott, hey, no, no, _no_ ," Stiles chanted frantically, pushing him back upright, his clammy face gripped between his hands, willing him to open his eyes. He still refused to accept that this was Scott's fate, refused to accept the fact that they were really going to lose him this time, his words a manic mantra as he pleaded for his best friend to hang on.

"Scott, no, come on, please don't do this. _Don't_ do this, man. You have to stay awake! Open your eyes! Come on, look at me! Scott!"

Deep down, if he allowed himself to think about the painful truth, Stiles knew it was a losing battle, that there was nothing they could do to save him now, and he had never felt more defeated and hopeless in his entire life.

"Scott, _no!"_ Malia's voice broke with devastation as he slipped away from them forever.

Scott's eyes fluttered back open for a brief moment, but they were more glassy and unfocused than ever before, and he wasn't really seeing them, not anymore. He was looking off in the distance over Stiles' shoulder, and his eyes widened as he saw something that none of them could see.

Scott's voice was nothing more than a pained whisper when he spoke again. "... _Allison?"_

Stiles felt his entire world come to a stop. He was barely aware of Lydia's choked sob as she looked frantically around, or how Malia collapsed against Scott once again, desperately trying to hold onto him.

Stiles knew then, that this was it. It was really the end.

Scott's eyes slipped closed again, for good this time. His head lolled back to the side and he slumped sideways again, falling bonelessly away from the tree towards Stiles. He hastily caught him in his arms, pulling his limp form haphazardly across his lap.

Stiles shook him in his arms, trying to keep him with them, choking out desperate pleas to no avail. "Scott, no, don't do this...please, _please_...don't leave us! Don't leave _me_..."

But it was no use.

Scott didn't move, didn't respond, didn't open his eyes again, his head rolling lifelessly against Stiles' shoulder.

He was _gone_.

Stiles felt like someone had reached inside his chest and literally wrenched out his heart. He didn't think he'd ever felt anything this painful in his entire life.

"Scott...oh God...no no no no _no_...this can't...this can't be happening..." Stiles couldn't hold back his sobs any longer, his shoulders shaking violently from the force of his crying now, just staring down at the body of his best friend in his arms and wishing he would just wake up from this nightmare, because this couldn't be real, couldn't be really happening.

"This isn't real, this isn't real, this _isn't_ real!" he chanted uselessly, unable to accept that this is how things were just going to end, that after everything they had been through. "Scott... _no_..."

He distantly felt Lydia wrap her body tightly around him, crying on his shoulder as she held onto him. Malia collapsed on top of Scott's bloodied chest, not even caring, sobbing helplessly as she buried her face into his tattered shirt.

Behind them, Liam crumpled to the ground in a heap, eyes flashing an alpha red that he had never wanted, letting out a long, mournful howl. Mason and Corey cried next to him, trying uselessly to console the other werewolf. Theo stood back in the distance, head bowed down in respect for the pack's loss.

"Scott...no...come back," Stiles choked out, burying his face in Scott's hair, his tears falling against his face as he rocked back and forth, clutching Scott tightly to his chest. "Come back, Scott...please... _please_..."

They may have won the battle, but they had lost Scott.

They had lost everything.

* * *

 _ **Present day**_

"Come on!" Stiles screamed at the storm, so drunk now that all he felt was rage, waving the whiskey bottle around as the lightning flashed overhead. "Is that all you've got? Come on!"

The thunder rolled deafeningly overhead in response, only fueling Stiles' anguish further.

"Come on!" he screamed again, arms stretched upwards towards the sky now, the rain pelting him in the face and nearly blinding him. "Come on, damn it!"

Another bolt of lightning lit up the sky, dangerously close this time, and Stiles could practically feel the electricity thrumming through the air. He didn't care, though, but welcomed it, just wanting to not feel this way anymore.

He yelled out once again in fury, slipping on the wet grass as he came closer to the edge of the cliff again, the waves crashing furiously in the darkness against the rocks below.

Stiles shakily raised the whiskey bottle to his lips again, taking another long draw from the bottle as he glanced up at the stormy night sky once again. "This one's for you, Scotty."

But as soon as the liquid burned down his throat, something inside of Stiles finally broke.

He pulled the bottle hastily away from his mouth, staring at it in disbelief, as if he couldnt believe he'd really let himself get this far. Lydia's words echoed in his head from their earlier argument. She was right, _of course_ she was.

Scott wouldn't have wanted this for him. Scott wouldn't have wanted him to give up.

Looking at the bottle again in disdain, Stiles pulled his arm back and then threw the bottle out over the cliff with as much effort as he could muster with his uncoordinated movements. The bottle hurtled out into the darkness and disappeared into the lake below with a satisfying splash.

Stiles collapsed to his knees at the edge of the cliff, completely soaked to the bone from the driving rain, feeling as though all of the energy and fight had been sucked out of him, leaving him empty and numb.

He looked up at the sky again, as lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, rain pelting him in the face, feeling completely lost in the storm, as if it was swallowing him whole.

Much like his grief had.

"I'm sorry, Scott," he rasped, barely able to hear his own voice over the wind and rain and thunder, emotions swirling dangerously now, "I'm so sorry, oh God, I'm so so sorry... _Scott_..."

His voice broke as the tears finally came, tears he hadn't let fall since the night Scott had died. Tears that he hadn't allowed himself to have, feelings he had desperately tried to avoid, that he hadn't felt he'd deserved to feel, feelings that he had been trying to push down behind anger and avoidance and reckless decisions and even alcohol, ever since he'd lost his best friend.

Since he'd lost his _brother_.

The tears came now, great racking sobs that shook his entire body. Stiles buried his head in his hands, covered in rain and mud, not even caring as he streaked it across his face. He could barely breathe, he was crying so hard, his throat raw from screaming earlier, his body shaking from both the force of his crying and the chill seeping into his bones from his rain-soaked clothes.

He was so lost that he didn't even hear Lydia calling his name over and over until she was right next to him, kneeling in the wet grass in the middle of the storm, shaking him to look at her. "Stiles!"

He jolted, falling back on the grass in surprise, to see Lydia right in front of him, bundled in a coat and struggling to keep her wet hair out of her face from the pelting rain. "Stiles, look at me!"

He couldn't answer her through his tears, and instead just started crying harder. He looked away, unable to meet her worried gaze any longer.

The next thing he knew, Lydia had wrapped herself around him, as they both sat at the edge of the cliff, getting completely soaked by the rain, lightning flashing all around them.

But Lydia didn't seem to care, didn't try to get him to stand up or go inside, just pulling him tightly against her as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, finally sobbing his heart out.

And even as the storm whipped violently all around them, Stiles had never felt safer than he did in that moment in Lydia's arms, had never needed her more than he did now.

Stiles was finally letting himself fall apart, but Lydia was there to pick up the pieces.

* * *

 _ **Two months ago**_

Stiles didn't know how long he sat there, Scott's lifeless body in his arms, the pack mourning around them.

And all the others, the other half of the pack didn't even know yet...

Time felt like it had stopped. Stiles felt like his world had ended.

It had.

At some point, though, a group of men approached them, but Stiles didn't even have the energy to look who it was, if it was allies or enemies. He didn't care. His vision was still blurred from the constant stream of tears that he couldn't seem to stop, because every time he opened his eyes, this nightmare was still real and Scott was still _gone_ , and his heart broke all over again.

The men came closer, and Stiles thought he vaguely recognized their voices, not even bothering to look up at them or open his eyes. The rest of the pack didn't bother to answer them, either, all protectively gathered around Stiles and Malia as they cradled Scott between them.

" _No_..." Stiles heard one voice breathe in horror as they saw the scene before them, and Stiles vaguely registered who the voice belonged to.

 _Derek_.

"The monster, that Gerard unleashed...it did this?" another voice asked, surprinsingly full of concern. _Peter_.

"Gerard will pay for this," another voice answered in quiet fury, laced with barely hidden grief, "I'll make sure of that." _Argent_.

"Good to know that code of yours doesn't apply to your maniac family members," Peter muttered in reply, but the humor fell flat.

"Oh God...Stiles," he heard another voice, closer now, gently addressing him. "Stiles, hey, look at me, son."

 _Dad_.

Stiles slowly opened his eyes again, to see his father kneeling down across from him, next to Malia, his own eyes shining with tears as he looked down at Scott and then back to him, realizing what had happened. "Stiles, I'm here."

Stiles just stared at him blankly, unable to find the words. There wasn't really anything left to say.

He glanced blearily up as Derek came closer, finally awake and healed from his earlier injuries, his jaw clenched tightly with grief as he looked down at Scott in his arms. Scott and Derek had become like brothers in their own way over the years, and Stiles could see how much the older werewolf was affected by losing Scott.

He looked completely lost, and hollowed out, as if he was reliving the fire all over again.

"He took on that thing by himself...didn't he?" Derek finally spoke, his voice hoarse, but it was a more of a statement than a question.

Stiles swallowed thickly, still unable to reply, and just slowly nodded his head, tears silently streaming down his cheeks. He felt numb, like he was having an out-of-body experience, like nothing happening was real...even though he knew it was.

He really wished it wasn't.

"Damn it Scott," Derek shook his head, rubbing a hand roughly down his face in a badly disguised effort to hide the tears rapidly forming in his eyes. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Stiles didn't have an answer for that either, because he was wondering the same thing himself, why Scott had to be the one to die when he was the best out of all of them, when he was the one they needed to keep them all together.

Nothing made sense in war.

Malia suddenly sat up then from where she had buried her face against Scott's chest, blood and tears streaked across her face, looking completely wild and broken as she looked at the rest of the pack that had arrived, too little, too late.

"I can't..." she began brokenly, closing her eyes against her tears and shaking her head, "I'm sorry, but I can't...I can't do this..."

Without warning, she stumbled unsteadily to her feet, eyes flashing blue as she looked down at Scott one last time. Without another word, she turned on her heel and fled into the darkness of the woods.

Moments later, a mournful coyote howl could be heard echoing throughout the forest.

"It's okay," Peter held up a hand to stop anyone else from going after her, "I'll go. We may not be close, but I am her father, and I do know a little bit about loss."

He paused, frowning heavily as he looked down at Scott. "For what it's worth, he didn't deserve this."

A heavy silence fell across the pack, knowing how many times Peter had come after Scott in the past, and even if he was on their side now, his words sounded hollow and out of place.

"Then go," Liam growled suddenly, his voice full of both grief and protectiveness from the new role as alpha already thrumming through his veins. "Find Malia."

Peter nodded in reply, giving them all a knowing look, before he took off into the darkness after his daughter.

"He'll make sure she's okay," Derek added quietly, because he knew how much the rest of the pack were still distrustful of Peter, but he did really care about Malia.

"Stiles," the Sheriff tried again then, gently reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder, his voice breaking, "Stiles, I'm sorry...damn it, I'm _so_ sorry...but we need to move the b..."

He paused with a shaky breath, taking a minute to reconsider his words. "We need to move Scott, and you guys need to get out of here. You have to let him go."

Stiles cleared his throat, staring back at his father as the words slowly registered, his voice barely more than a weak whisper as he spoke to them for the first time. "...no."

The Sheriff sighed heavily, and Stiles hated that his father was looking at him like that, full of sympathy and concern. "Stiles, I think you're in shock..."

"No," Stiles choked out again bitterly through his tears, but it was the only word he could manage.

He heard Derek suck in a pained breath at his reaction.

"Stiles," Argent stepped up then, standing next to Derek now, his normally calm and controlled voice filled with grief, "your father is just trying to help. You all need to leave. Now."

"No," Stiles bit back, and he couldn't help the anger bubbling beneath his grief, because Scott was currently dead in his arms and he was angry that this was real, that this was even _happening_.

Argent actually flinched, his eyes betraying his own deep pain, even though he claimed to be the master of compartmentalization. "I'm sorry, Stiles, but we can't stay here. We have to move him before anyone else sees. We can't explain this here."

"No!" Stiles shot back more forcefully this time, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he looked down at Scott's still, pale face once again. "No..."

Argent exhaled heavily. "This has to be contained, before Agent McCall hears about it first."

Scott's dad was still with Parrish, rounding up some hunters attempting to escape, including Monroe, and taking care of any loose ends from the showdown, but it would only be a matter of time before he returned to the site of the battle and learned what had happened to Scott.

"And I have to go to the hospital, and tell Melissa..." Argent's voice wavered, full of remorse, "before she hears it from someone else."

He paused with a heavy sigh. "She should hear it from me."

Stiles knew, God he knew, that they needed to move before the rest of the agents and law enforcement nearby saw them, that Scott's own parents deserved to find out about this from someone they knew and not some stranger, not that it would really make it any less painful, because nothing could really...but he couldn't make himself leave.

"No."

"Stiles," his father tried again to reach him, but Stiles was past the point of reason now, completely consumed by his grief. "I'm sorry, but this is a crime scene now. We have to get all of you out of here. You need to...you need to let Scott go."

"No, Dad," Stiles replied, eyes shining with tears and anger and desperation. "No, please..."

"I know Stiles," the Sheriff sighed, wiping away his own tears with the back of his hand, looking more weary and tired then Stiles had ever seen him, "but we have to go."

"No..." Stiles shook his head, pulling Scott more tightly against him, refusing to let go, "you don't understand..."

"Stiles, don't," Derek added wearily, his shoulders hunched in defeat and sorrow. "Don't do this. Don't make this any worse."

"You don't understand," Stiles bit back, jaw clenching to suppress another sob, "I can't..."

"Stiles, I'm sorry," his father let out a pained sigh, giving a short nod to Argent and Derek.

The next thing Stiles knew, strong arms were wrapping around him from behind, and Scott was being pulled out of his grip.

He belatedly realized it was Derek holding onto him while Argent and his dad gently took Scott away from him and laid him carefully out on the ground.

It did nothing to stop the absolute grief and panic that came over him as they took Scott away.

"No, wait, stop!" Stiles cried out, flailing uselessly to get out of Derek's strong grip on him. "Damn it, stop! Please!"

"Stiles, it's okay," his father tried uselessly to calm him, but it was all false platitudes, because _nothing_ was okay.

"No, stop, you don't understand!" Stiles yelled out furiously through his tears, still struggling with all his might to get away from Derek, but he was no match for a werewolf. "Stop! Let me go!"

"Stiles, stop fighting," Derek's gruff, broken voice came by his ear as he pulled him up to his feet, "you have to stop!"

"No!" Stiles was yelling now, his throat raw from screaming and crying, "I told him...I told him that I wouldn't leave...that I wouldn't leave him...I promised!"

He heard Derek's breath hitch at his words, and the pained gasps of more than one member of the pack. Tears were streaming freely down Lydia's face as she stared back at him.

He'd promised Scott that he wouldn't leave him, and even though he knew it wasn't a rational thought anymore...he didn't care. It didn't matter.

He couldn't leave Scott now. He _wouldn't_.

"Stiles," the Sheriff's voice broke, "this isn't...this isn't Scott, not anymore."

"Please, Dad, I can't go," Stiles pleaded with him, still in Derek's death grip, panting heavily, "I promised him that I wouldn't leave... _please_."

Argent came over and faced him then as he still struggled against Derek. His face was lined and drawn, like he had seen this too many times already in his life.

"Stiles," Argent's voice was rough, quiet, "you've been with Scott through every moment that really counted, even at the very end. And I know there's no one else he would have wanted to be there with him. But he's gone now, and you have to let him go...I'm sorry."

"No," Stiles slumped against Derek now, all the fight taken out of him, tears just streaming down his face. " _No_."

"Derek, get them out of here," Argent sighed heavily, nodding at the rest of the broken pack. "Now."

Completely broken now, Stiles stopped fighting, letting Derek lead him and the others away, leaving Scott behind.

The whole time, he kept counting his fingers, waiting to wake up from this nightmare.

But it wasn't a dream.

* * *

 **Trigger warnings: Major Character Death (Scotty is my fave though, I swear), blood/injury, suicidal ideation (brief), quick reference to Motel California ep, some mild swearing, alcohol abuse, grief/depression, mental breakdown. Whew. I wasn't kidding about this chapter going** _ **there**_ **.**

 **I hope they all sounded in character, it's incredibly difficult to keep everyone from being OOC when putting them through such painful situations.**

 **Sorry for all the hurt.**

 ***Sniffs* Please accept these virtual tissues...**

 **To be continued.**


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